The Jewish Community in Tokyo (JCJ) was excited to host the November teen shabbaton of Asian Progressive Judaism (The Asian Congregations of the UPJ of Australia, New Zealand and Asia). Eighteen young people (plus their young feeling chaperones) from Beijing, Hong Kong, Hiroshima, Shanghai and Tokyo came together to celebrate and experience both Tokyo and the diversity of teen Jewish life in Asia.  Gastronomic diversity was also a lucky by-product of the visit.
 
While some of the teens were disappointed that Harajuku was not on the schedule, everyone enjoyed visits to Asakusa and Kamakura.  Melon bread, especially stuffed with matcha ice cream, and omikuji (good and bad fortunes) were highlights of the visit to the Asakusa Sensoji Buddhist Temple precinct.  While everyone enjoyed the melon bread – ice cream or not – only a few were satisfied with our fortunes, even if they were not the best.  Others, less happy, folded their omikuji and tied them on provided wires, allowing the bad luck to fly away with the wind.  In Kamakura (the ancient Samurai capitol of Japan), while everyone agreed that the Daibutsu (Giant Buddha) was “dope” (one of our teen’s expression for cool), the highlights truly were Havdalah on the beach despite mechanical (wind) issues with candle and matches, and shopping and dinner on the Shotengai (shopping street) on Saturday evening.
 
As a closing program, teens and post-teens shared their best experiences during the weekend, and some of the answers were a bit surprising.  Nearly everyone mentioned how much they appreciated spending time with old and new friends and creating new relationships – not unexpected answers.  It was surprising, however, how many of the teens enjoyed late night study time as they prepared for next week’s school assignments.  Apparently, the very late-night discussions after study covered the gamut of topics, even the complexities of being a Jewish teen in Asia. 
 
Tokyo is a gastronomic paradise, with every kind of cuisine not only available, but also improved. Italian food is better than in Rome, Mexican food better than in Mexico City and even Japanese food is better here than anywhere else.  Indeed, many have pointed to the challah, made at the JCJ for over forty years by octogenarian Izeki-san, as some of the best in the world.  Our Shabbaton fell on the JCJ’s first International Shabbat of the year, so we were lucky enough to enjoy an authentic Hungarian menu featuring Chicken Paprikash, galuska dumplings, cabbage noodles and apple strudel (all Kunin family favorites). Join us next month for a gourmet Indian dinner.  On their own in Kamakura, teens enjoyed sushi, udon, vegetable tempura, and kakigori (shaved ice).  A few teens even braved the most Japanese of Kamakura’s restaurants  マクドナルド(McDonald’s). Our breakfasts were more mundane as we did not offer natto, an interestingly textured (to many non-Japanese inedible) Japanese staple, but bagels and lox, which were specially flown in (via an international supermarket) straight from New York.
 
As always, our Shabbaton was a mix of the old and familiar to the new and exciting.  Shabbat services at the JCJ tied us to our ancient tradition.  Led by David and Lea (two of Tokyo’s teens) they were an expression of the Masorti minhag (customs) of the JCJ, yet they were also made new and exciting by the melodies and musical talent of Dan Kohane, the cantorial soloist from Banai Hof, the APJ Kehila (community) in Bali.  Shabbat ended with Havdalah by the ocean. Sung with the Debbie Friedman melody all of us (more or less) shared, we all felt united as we said farewell to Shabbat.
 
Asian Progressive Judaism (APJ) holds two teen shabbatons over the course of the year.  Look out for our next one this spring (dates yet to be determined).  We also have an annual summit for the lay and professional leaders of Jewish communities across Asia.  This year our Asian Summit will be held in Tokyo at the Jewish Community of Japan on April 23-25, 2020.  For more information on any of our programs contact your local Asian community leader, or Rabbi David Kunin – rabbikunin@gmail.com.
 
We would like to thank the board, members and staff of the Jewish Community of Japan for their hospitality and logistical support.  We would also like to thank the Joint Distribution Committee (JDC), Camps Airy and Louise, and the Assembly of Australian, New Zealand and Asian Rabbis and Cantors for their help in making this program possible.  

​I have often been asked over the past year if Tikkun Olam and the imperative of social justice are authentic expressions of the Jewish tradition.  It has been suggested to me that the ritual mitzvot and simple Jewish survivial are true expressions of Judaism, while those that are labeled as ethical, are actually expressions of a liberal agenda, rather than true “Judaism.”  It will not be surprising that I disagree with this sentiment, but rather consider both as equally authentic and important expressions of our tradition.  This sentiment is shared rather loudly by Jewish prophets such as Amos and Isaiah and is the central message of the Haftarah for parshat Vayeishev, and of many others.  It is also equally shared by our ancient rabbis who chose these haftorot, not only for regular Shabbatot, but also for the most important holiday of our year.
 
Right at the beginning of the haftarah, Amos challenges our complacency.  Israel will be punished, he informs us, not for idolatry, adultery or even murder (these apparently God can forgive), but instead for our failures to help the destitute and the poor and for greed that caused the rich and powerful to take advantage of the helpless and to pervert justice.  These sins, Amos teaches, are unforgivable.  Every time I read this introduction, as well as the similarly powerful message of Isaiah, which we read on Yom Kippur, I experience a sense of despair.  Why haven’t we improved? Why are our modern failures exactly the same as those of our ancestors?  
 
Amos, however, is not content to just identify these ancient and modern failures.  He adds a second inditement, which equally challenges our modern Jewish community.  God, he tells us, sends prophets to warn and teach how we should live Torah in the world.  But, instead of listening to them, “[we] commanded the prophets, saying: do not prophesy.”  Then and now we refuse(d) to hear the messages that are so necessary for us to hear.  Yet, this is exactly the role of the Jewish prophet in antiquity, and our rabbis and other religious leaders in the present.  Prophets were not called by God to tell our ancestors what they wanted to hear. There were no doubt enough yes men and women for that.  Instead, they told us what we needed to hear.  That is still true for our religious leaders today.  We need to have the courage to listen, even if they share messages that we are unready or unwilling to hear.  We may not agree, but still we need to have the courage to listen.
 
A Hassidic rabbi was once asked why the messiah has not come today or yesterday.  His answer is instructive.  He suggested that the messianic age has not begun because of our refusal to change direction.  The world will only be transformed when the ancient sins identified by Amos as unforgivable are not also the sins that characterize our own times.  We need no longer to be the same today and tomorrow as we were yesterday.

Last month Pope Francis paid a visit to Asia, stopping in Thailand and Japan.  While in Japan he focused on the toll of human suffering during the 20th century, especially the destruction wrought by atomic weapons.  Japan was the only country upon which these weapons have been used, and more recently suffered one of the worst nuclear disasters (brought on by a tsunami) to befall humanity.  The Pope issued a strong call questioning the morality of these weapons, demanding that we prioritize human life and the good of the world.   
As rabbi of the Jewish Community of Japan, and chair of the Assembly of Rabbis and Cantors of Australia, New Zealand and Asia I was fortunate to be present, as part of a delegation of faith leaders in Japan, for the joint service of prayer in Hiroshima.  Held at the memorial (and indeed close to the sight of the hypocenter) of the atomic blast that destroyed the city and killed over 70,000 people instantly, and another 70,000 within a year, several thousand people, younger and older joined the Pope to dedicate themselves to peace, and the elimination of weapons of mass destruction.
The 84-year-old Pontiff had a busy schedule, with morning events and a mass in Nagasaki, followed by the service in Hiroshima in the early evening.  He appeared tired when he greeted each of the faith leaders, though he had a firm grasp as he shook our hands, and exchanged pleasant words with each of us – I thanked him for coming to Japan with a message of peace, and greeted him on behalf of the Jews of Japan and of Austro-Asia. Yet, he came to life when he moved on to greet the very elderly survivors of the Hiroshima blast.  He was visibly touched by their warm welcome, their painful memories and spent minutes with each, embracing them and sharing their tears.
After a minute of prayer, we were addressed by a survivor and by the Pope.  The elderly woman called to mind the horrors of the day, and the suffering and destruction that was wrought.  She must have been very young in 1945, caught in horrors caused by the supposed responsible adults (both those whose decisions led to war, and those who decided to drop not one but two nuclear bombs) of her time.  The Pope fully engaged and energetically also focused on the horrors of nuclear war, calling on the nations of the world to eliminate the nuclear arsenals that threaten global human survival.  He stressed that these weapons are immoral, in possession, dissemination and use.  As he talked, we could all visualize the Hiroshima Peace Memorial, the remains of the building under the hypocenter of the blast, which loomed in the distance.
Today in the early years of the 21st century there are two vanishing groups of survivors, who bear testament to existential dangers that faced not only humanity in the past, but also in the present and future.  The survivors of the Holocaust are a global reminder of man’s inhumanity to man.   The Jewish people and the Roma faced genocide at the hands of the Nazis.  Tragically, these were not the first attempted genocides, nor the last. From the near destruction of indigenous peoples and the Armenian Genocide to the recent attempted elimination of the Rohingya, mass murder of an entire ethnic group has continued to be part of the human lexicon of action.  “Never again” must mean an end to all forms of genocide.  
As the Pope reminded us yet again, the survivors of Hiroshima also bear witness to inhumanity, as entire cities of people young and old were destroyed in seconds by the horrific power of the atomic bomb.  Tens of thousands also died soon after, suffering the horrors of radiation poisoning.  From then to now the threat of nuclear destruction looms over all of us, not only by the nuclear powers, who calculate the equations of deterrence, but also by rogue nations and groups, who seek these weapons as a wedge in their equations of terror.  These weapons are, as the Pope reminded us, indeed immoral, and their use should be unthinkable.  “Never again”, here too, is a clarion call to ban the use and indeed the very existence of these weapons of mass destruction.
I have often struggled with the appropriate role that a religious leader should play in political discourse, especially while also embracing the ideal of a separation between church and state.  There are delicate balances which need to shape both politicians and religious leaders. Religion and politics can be a dangerous mix, especially when politicians attempt to impose a particular religion upon a diverse polity, which in all likelihood may not all share that particular vision of the world.  
There is also a tendency for religions to views their truths as absolute, and therefore to elevate the particular to the universal, thus justifying attempts to impose them on everyone, rather than just on adherents of a particular faith.  
The Pope’s words and actions in Nagasaki, Hiroshima and Tokyo, however, exemplified the religious leader at his or her best.  Taking on the existential issue of human survival, he challenged norms of international relations, and the balance of terror, crying from the wilderness for nuclear disarmament; a message to which I also ascribe.  I believe that the Pope knew that his was a voice from the outside, but that it would be complicit not to speak out.  It is up to the rest of us to choose, or indeed not to choose, to listen.