blogs/rabbi-huberman

Parashat Shemini

Hockey, Law and Joe Lieberman

About two months ago, the New York Islanders hired Patrick Roy as their new head coach. As a hockey fan, I loved the decision. Patrick Roy led the Montreal Canadiens, the hockey team of my youth, to its last Stanley Cup. That was in 1993. But as a rabbi, I applauded even louder.

Because in 2006, Roy—then coach of the Quebec Remparts—made what I consider one of the gutsiest calls in hockey history: He honored the Judaism of one of his players.

Enter a 17-year-old forward named Benjamin Rubin. In 2006, he earned a tryout with the Remparts—one of the top junior hockey teams in North America.

With a great wrist shot and great skating speed, he had just one request before he entered training camp. As an Orthodox Jew, Rubin told Coach Roy that he would not play on Friday nights.

It was a tough decision for both. As a player, Rubin had his entire career ahead of him. But as a Jew, playing on Shabbat went against his conviction.

As it turned out, Rubin made his request to the right coach. At the time, Roy had earned more wins than anyone in NHL history. He was also passionate and stubborn—unafraid of public criticism.

Rubin made the team. Yet, within a country where hockey is considered a religion, fans asked, “What would Patrick Roy do with a player who would not play Friday nights?”

Ultimately, that season, Roy honored a more important religion as he shared his decision with CBC Radio: “It's fun to see someone who knows what he wants. I'm not going to go against this.”

That year, Benjamin Rubin missed 35 games—scoring three goals in the 29 games he played. Noted one newspaper, “Roy recognized the wholeness of the young men under his charge. Passionate as he is about hockey, he has sent a message that hockey is not life.” Who knows how the New York Islanders will fare this year.

But in my mind, it really doesn’t matter.   For alongside athletes such as Sandy Koufax, Shawn Greene and Mathieu Schneider who refused to play on Yom Kippur, the name of Patrick Roy stands out.

Indeed, Patrick Roy respected Benjamin Rubin for who he was. As a fan and as a Jew. I will never forget.

One of my colleagues, Rabbi Michael Simon, tells the story of a young corporate lawyer who once was asked to join executives on a trip to Europe. The young man was thrilled to have been invited to this series of important meetings. His bonding with company executives would be invaluable.

As the meetings concluded, the board chairman made an outstanding offer. He suggested that in the spirit of teamwork and bonding, the company would extend the trip by one day, a free day in Europe, and that everyone would be flown home together that Saturday.

But the young lawyer was an observant Conservative Jew. He devoted the Sabbath to God, rest and spiritually. When he informed the non‑Jewish chairman of his strong religious conviction, and that he needed to leave earlier, his boss did something remarkable.

He cancelled the extra day, and with respect for the young man, flew everyone home on that Friday. Today, the young lawyer is the company’s General Counsel. How interesting that instead of being penalized, the young lawyer was respected.

Surveys consistently conclude that Jews are most admired and embraced when they calmly and confidently claim their Jewish identity.

Noted Rabbi Simon, as he affirmed to his congregants the importance of respecting their own Jewishness: “Where assimilation is a possibility. Keep these commandments and you will survive. Disregard them and you will perish.

This past week, the Jewish world lost a “gadol,” an important and cherished Jewish figure. Senator Joe Lieberman passed away at age 82. In 2000, Lieberman came within 537 ballots, and one Supreme Court vote from becoming Vice President.

This week, he was eulogized as a champion of the people—of human rights, equality and fairness—a person who unapologetically took his Jewish values to the floor of Congress, and was respected for it.

His Washington residence was five miles away from the Capital. After attending Shabbat services, it was not uncommon for him to walk to Congress and, if necessary, cast his vote.

People knew who he was. He was an independent thinker. He was a “man of the people.” But he was also a Jew. There is a lesson here for each of us during these challenging times. For the more Joe Lieberman embraced who he truly was, the more he was revered.

To my good fortune, I had the opportunity speak with Joe Lieberman a month ago. He agreed to write the forward to the book I am writing about his former rabbi, and my former mentor.

Joe Lieberman was patient and helpful as we discussed the project, and we agreed to speak again next month. As we said goodbye, I felt this profound sense of privilege.

I had just exchanged words with one of the most significant Jewish figures in American political history. Friends, we live in a world where too many are feeling the need to hide their Jewish identify.

That is such a tragedy, since perhaps what the current Israel- Hamas war is missing perhaps most, are more reflective and confident Jewish voices. Too many have forgotten what happened on October 7. Too many advocacy groups have developed a collective sense of amnesia. We did not ask for this.

The nightly news is flooded with visions of Gaza—but have we all forgotten how this began? No country or its leaders are perfect—but what we have recently been lacking is sense of balance—an articulation of who we really are.

We are a peaceful people. We stand for justice. We believe in a better world. We stand for a day of rest known as Shabbat. What this world needs more is Jews like Joe Lieberman, who embraced his Jewish tradition and put it into practice.

In a world too often void of Jewish role models—at a time when we are being encouraged to retract and conceal—let us remember the teenage hockey player, the young lawyer, and most of all the calm conviction of Joe Lieberman.

He was truly someone Jewish people, Americans and the world could look up to. He reminds us that if we maintain our values, embrace our tradition and walk the walk, even when it is five miles, we can lift ourselves, our people and even our troubled world to new heights.

Let us be inspired by the journey of Joe Lieberman.

A “man of the people.” But above all, a Jew.

Shabbat shalom. v’kol tuv

Rabbi Irwin Huberman