Queens Jewish Link
Connecting the Queens Jewish Community 
What led to the resignation of President Richard Nixon in the 1970s was not the break-in to the Watergate complex to get information on his political opponent. It was not the petty burglary. It was the cover-up of the crime approved by the president himself. If a president abuses his power to such an extent, our very democracy is threatened.
The situation in which the Orthodox community currently finds itself presents a real dilemma. On the one hand, there is little question that many in the religious community relish flouting the COVID regulations. On the other hand, our governor and mayor, aided by the media, have relished singling out the Orthodox community – more so than any other community, especially those in other minority neighborhoods right here in Queens, which have much higher positivity rates than in Kew Gardens Hills and other prominent Orthodox communities.
Dear Readers:
Last week’s issue of the Queens Jewish Link contained a Letter to the Editor that was critical of some of our local elected officials. Some of those officials are very dear to many of us. I received complaint calls as though I was responsible for editing the paper. I am not. As the Rabbinic Consultant, I am only shown articles in advance of publication that may pose a halachic issue or a matter of modesty.
This week, I will take the liberty of sharing my Yom Kippur message with my readers. The message was delivered in shul on Kol Nidrei night to a limited audience davening in the tent on our shul lawn at the Young Israel of Kew Gardens Hills. But I do believe the message has to go to the broader audience during these times.
There are just a couple of weeks remaining till we go to the polls in what many describe as the most important election in American history. While it may be true, it’s likely that it is true of most presidential elections. Nixon/Kennedy, Johnson/Goldwater, Reagan/Carter, Bush/Gore, and Obama/McCain were all epic elections that were game-changers for the country.
Over 30 years ago (it feels like 15, but over the years I’ve learned to double the amount of time that I think has lapsed), I was a rotating rabbi in a new development outside of Hightstown, New Jersey, known as Twin Rivers. At the time, it was home to about 10,000 people, of whom 80 percent were Jewish escapees from all parts of Brooklyn. Most of them left whatever Judaism remained within them back in their old homes.
