The very act of marriage means we are committing to one person to the exclusion of others. We say this in the blessing recited at a Jewish wedding under the chuppah right before the groom presents the ring to his bride: “God who prohibits us to those who are married to other people and permits us to those we have married through this chuppah and wedding ceremony”. What makes our love special is that it is focused on one person over another. If we were citizens of the world and not of any one country, would we have any loyalty or allegiance to something beyond ourselves? If we didn’t embrace certain values from a particular ideology – like we as Jews do from our Torah – would we have a moral compass to guide our lives? And if we loved everyone the same, we would have any love at all? Because to love everyone is to really to love no-one. Love demands preference.īecause ultimately, it’s those differences which give our lives meaning and purpose. Love everyone is to really to love no-one. How do we identify ourselves? Are we proud to be part of a specific people – the Jewish people? Do we see value in that and in our connection to the State of Israel? And do we see the values and ethics of our Torah as wisdom by which we live our lives? Or do we see our nationality and religion as something which just separates us from other people and creates unnecessary division and prejudice? And that the world would be a better place if we would all just shed our different nationalities, dispense with our religious values and just all be one and the same?īut what would we be living for then? What would our purpose be in this world? To just get along? I mean it certainly would be a better world if we could all just get along, but why do we have to give up our beliefs and our values to do that? Wouldn’t it be better if we respected each other’s differences, rather than saying we shouldn’t have any differences at all? We pride ourselves on being a nation with a country, and we are a religion with specific values and ethics by which we live our lives. And the song’s next two lines: “Imagine there are no countries…and no religion too” – this has also produced great conflict for me because Judaism is both a people and a religion. It’s a tough song for me to reconcile because as a Jew and a rabbi, I do believe in heaven, in “something above us that isn’t just sky” and I don’t believe in just living for today. Every song, that is, except “Imagine” – the iconic ballad John Lennon wrote about peace: “Imagine there’s no heaven, it’s easy if you try, no hell below us, above us only sky, imagine all the people living for today.” Since that day, I have continued to listen and revel in the great music of the Beatles, obsessing over every song and lyric. John Lennon, as pictured in an advertisement for Imagine from Billboard, September 18, 1971. When I met John, leaned over and said: “Happy birthday Mark, you can have your father back now.” It was my ninth birthday and I’ll never forget that day. On the last day of the trial, my father brought me and my brother to court to meet John. My father and John became friends, and eventually my dad won the case. Nixon lashed back by trying to deport John and so the ex-Beatle hired my father to fight the deportation which he did day and night for the next five years. After the Beatles broke up, John became very vocal against the Vietnam War and started a “Dump Nixon Campaign” to prevent Nixon from being reelected. The Nixon administration tried deporting John, based on a drug conviction he had in England, but it was much more political. Besides his incredible music and raspy voice, my father became his lawyer when I was about 5 years old. By the time I was 12, I knew most of the Beatles songs – their music, lyrics and all of Ringo’s drum solos. Growing up, John Lennon was a major part of my life.
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