Hebrew College Commencement Address

June 6, 2004

Thank you for this great honor. I am humbled to receive it in the presence of my fellow honorees. I suspect my first Hebrew school teacher, Rabbi Israel Goodman, olava shalom, is smiling right now. The truth is that I was not the best or most attentive student of Jewish learning as a young adult. Growing up in Pontiac, Michigan, we did not have access to the same resources that our Prozdor students do in Boston. For me, serious Jewish study did not come until much later in life. I would like to think that Rabbi Goodman would be both amused and pleased that his somewhat indifferent student has come so far.

As a fellow college president, I have marveled and admired at the transformation of Hebrew College under David Gordis' inspired leadership. One the great strengths of American higher education is its diversity. We have more than 4000 colleges and universities in this country – major research universities, small liberal arts colleges, highly specialized and focused institutions as diverse as the Philadelphia Textile Institute, the Berklee College of Music, and yes, Hebrew College. Each of these institutions competes for students, faculty, resources, and for distinction. It is this competition that ultimately drives educational innovation in the U.S. and produces a higher education system that is the envy of the rest of the world.

In this context, Hebrew College has distinguished itself through its Meah program, the new and very innovative Rabbinical program, the creative use of technology to create an on-line Jewish learning community, and of course, this spectacular new campus. David, and to all those assembled here who have supported and helped to bring about this renaissance, congratulations on all that you have accomplished to date, and will accomplish in the future.

Of course, any educational institution is only as good as its students. Today we recognize and honor our graduates, members of the Hebrew College Class of 2004. Congratulations on all you have achieved. You have worked hard to get here, but you have not made it to this day alone. You have been supported along the way by your teachers, your spouses, children, family, and loved ones who have given so much so that you may study and grow as scholars and Jews. Please join me in thanking all who have helped you arrive at this day.

Our graduates are now Jewish educators. Each of you has studied sacred texts, mastered the Hebrew language, and immersed yourselves in Jewish history, culture, and philosophy. In the future, many of you will make your own contributions to Jewish scholarship, and each of you will educate others. Fortunately, because of the efforts of institutions like Hebrew College, you are part of a growing group of Jewish educators.

By contrast, I am an educator who just happens to be Jewish. I can claim no special expertise in your field. However, I am also part of a growing group of educators who happen to be Jewish. I refer, of course, to the increasingly large number of Jewish college presidents. Fortunately, what was once remarkable and newsworthy is no more. Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Dartmouth, Penn, MIT, Chicago and now Tufts either have or have had Jewish presidents. Over half the presidents of the New England Small College Athletic Conference – a group that includes Amherst, Williams, Bowdoin, Bates, Colby, Middlebury, Wesleyan, Trinity, Tufts, Hamilton, and Connecticut College – are Jewish.

Moreover, most of my colleagues are more than just Jews by birth. They are closely identified with Jewish causes, organizations and traditions. For example, my good friend, Jim Freedman, when he was president of Dartmouth, appeared in a New York Times photograph wearing a tallit and kippa, something that would have been impossible to imagine not so long ago. Morty Shapiro, president of Williams, holds a seder in his home every Pesach and invites students to join his family. Barry Mills at Bowdoin celebrated his son's Bar Mitzvah in neighboring Bangor, Maine. I could cite many other examples.

So here is what I really want to talk about: Given this rise in Jewish leadership in American higher education, how do we understand or explain what some in our community believe to be a rise in anti-Semitism on college campuses? I refer to a brick thrown through a window at the Berkeley Hillel last Passover. At Concordia University in Canada, Benjamin Netanyahu was prevented from speaking by the occupation of a building by a group of pro-Palestinian students. At San Francisco State, a rally organized by Hillel students to promote peace in the Middle East was disrupted by an angry mob of pro-Palestinian protesters. Police had to be called in. In addition to these incidents, at MIT, Tufts and Harvard, faculty circulated a petition seeking to require their institutions to divest from investing in companies doing business in Israel. And as the war in Iraq has grown increasingly unpopular, there are those on our campuses who attempt to blame U.S. support for Israel for U.S. involvement in the hostilities.

These events cause us to ask: What is going on? Where is the sense of proportion? Where is the sense of fairness? Are our campuses really becoming hotbeds of anti-Semitism? Do Jewish students really feel threatened? And if so, where are our educators who happen to be Jewish in all of this?

I would like to argue that our campuses reflect our society. To the extent that there is anti-Semitism in society, it similarly exists on our campuses. We are not perfect. However, we cannot and should not be a bubble or cocoon that isolates our students from the world they will inhabit upon graduation. To the contrary, we must prepare our students for this world.

But I also must confess that I believe it is a gross distortion to characterize college campuses as hotbeds of anti-Semitism or to imply that the critical views of Israel expressed by a handful of faculty in fact mask latent anti-Semitism. Even more importantly, I think it is self-serving and harmful for certain organizations to hysterically characterize Jewish students as "under attack" on American college campuses.

Take, for example, the outcry against the divestiture petition. On its face, this petition is outrageous. To seriously suggest that Israel's policies in the West Bank are comparable to those of South African apartheid not only ignores history, but also is grossly unfair. But this petition, for all the publicity it has received in the Jewish community – and it has received a lot – has gone virtually no where. At Tufts, fewer than 30 faculty out of 700 have signed it. The numbers are comparable at Harvard and MIT. Moreover, hundreds have signed counter petitions.

Perhaps more importantly, neither Chuck Vest at MIT, Larry Summers at Harvard, nor I have ever been presented with this petition. It exists in name only. Furthermore, I know of no university president who has endorsed it. It is literally much ado about nothing.

Faculty are sometimes described as people who think otherwise. On many college campuses, one could get 30 faculty members to sign a petition opposing the metric system. My point is that we should not extrapolate wildly from the action of a few.

Like many other university presidents, I have responded to this petition by trying to find the teachable moment. It is easy to draw a sharp distinction between divestment from South Africa, which Tufts supported, and the proposed divestment from companies doing business in Israel. At the time that South African divestment was being debated, virtually no one rose to defend apartheid on any American college campus. The only issue was whether divestiture represented a reasonable means to bring an end to the heinous policy. By contrast, reasonable people can differ on where the balance of equities lies in the Middle East. I have my own point of view which I suspect does not stray very far from those views prevailing in this audience. However, I respect those with other opinions. Universities ought to be places that encourage open, honest, thoughtful and respectful dialogue. To embrace one position over another through university investment policy does not encourage dialogue and debate; it quashes it.

Are proponents of divestiture anti-Semites? I think not. I know many of these faculty members. They are earnest, concerned and frustrated about the lack of movement in the region. Their natural inclination is to embrace whomever they perceive as the underdog. You can talk to them and reason with them. However, the conversation comes to an immediate and crushing end if you label them as anti-Semites. This language is not helpful.

What are the responsibilities of Jewish college presidents to defend Jewish students who feel intimidated because of their defense of Israel? Clearly we must defend students who express unpopular views, but this defense cannot be limited to one side of the issue. We must also be willing to defend Muslim and Arab students who speak passionately about the Palestinians. Many of these students truly were intimidated after 9/11. Similarly, we must recognize that over decades, black, Hispanic, and gay students have suffered the most on our campuses. Our response as educators, especially educators who happen to be Jewish, must be even handed. We cannot be seen as rushing in only to protect our own. I believe it was Martin Luther King who said that we cannot attempt to prioritize injustice because injustice anywhere was injustice everywhere. Any assault on any group of students on our campuses must be viewed as an assault on the basic form of intellectual inquiry that is at the heart of a great university, not as an assault on a distinct and singular minority.

Ultimately, our responsibility as educators, whether we are Jewish educators or educators who happen to be Jewish, is to create a rich learning environment in which our students are free to ask difficult questions, to explore knowledge, to see the world in ways that they have not envisioned before. At times, we must challenge our students and even make them feel uncomfortable with their conventional wisdom, but in a setting that is supportive and forgiving. We must remind them that in dealing with people who think very differently from them, they have a special obligation to try to model the behavior that they would hope to see elsewhere in the world. This is especially true as we try to discuss progress in the Middle East. As I like to say at Tufts, if we cannot conduct our debates on our beautiful campus on a hill with civility and respect, notwithstanding our sharp differences, there is no hope elsewhere.

I have learned through our own Jewish educators at Tufts, principally Rabbi Jeff Summit, our wonderful Hillel Rabbi, that if managed right, Jewish learning can be a resource not just for Jewish students on our campus, but for all students. Years ago, Jeff organized an Arab-Jewish dialogue that brings together our students to discuss issues of mutual concern. This dialogue has created social capital which we now draw upon in difficult times. Similarly, Hillel is where our African American student organization holds its regular meetings. Not surprisingly, we enjoy very good relations between Jews and Arab students, and Jews and Blacks on the Tufts campus. Hillel also helped to organize our major campus response to September 11 – a dialogue about what the tragedy meant to each of 88 separate campus groups. Each group on campus was invited to craft a patch expressing their sentiments regarding this horrible tragedy. The individual patches were then woven into a large tapestry that brilliantly symbolized our collective response to September 11 while leaving room for individual expression.

I believe Jewish educators have much to teach to Jews and non-Jews alike. Our culture, our stories, and our traditions are too rich and in many cases too interesting to keep to ourselves. They truly have universal appeal. To give you just one example, the single most popular undergraduate course at Tufts is Yiddish Literature taught by Sol Gittleman. Every student who can get into the course – Jews and gentiles alike – takes it.

Our Jewish values of tzedaka, gemilut chasadim, and tikun olam resonate well with today's young people regardless of their religious persuasion. Instead of focusing our energies on just teaching our own, instead of preparing students to do battle with strident voices expressing contrary views, I think we need more outreach that demonstrates what we all share in common. In a world where so much divides us, the function of Jewish education and all education must be to bring us together.

Graduates of Hebrew College, you are well suited to this task. I hope you find it to be challenging and rewarding. Good luck as you make your way in this complicated world. I am confident that you will leave it better than you found it. Congratulations and Mazel Tov to all.