Empathy Is Who We Are: Rabbi Elliot Cosgrove on Being Jewish Today

“To be a Jew is to know that because of who we are, because of our historical experience, we care for the other. This is really one of the great tensions of our moment. Of how to be eyes wide open to Israel's need for self-defense, and at the same time recognize the real suffering that's going on in Gaza and to know that we need to find a way to hold both of those together.”

Rabbi Elliot Cosgrove, spiritual leader of Park Avenue Synagogue in New York, explores the complexities of Jewish identity in a post-October 7th world in his new book, For Such a Time As This: On Being Jewish Today. In this conversation, he unpacks the tension between Israel’s need for self-defense and the suffering experienced by Gazans and Israelis and the challenge of balancing empathy with vigilance. He also shares his personal journey to the rabbinate and what it means to live as a Jew in this pivotal moment.

*The views and opinions expressed by guests do not necessarily reflect the views or position of AJC. 

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Transcript of Conversation with Rabbi Elliot Cosgrove: 

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Manya Brachear Pashman:  

I've done quite a bit of soul searching in the 15 months since October 7. How do I grapple with the tragedy in Israel and Gaza and the hatred Jews face on American soil without scaring my children away from Judaism? 

Then came our Temple's Purim spiel last spring. That story of Queen Esther's bravery, in some ways, helped. It was about that same time that Rabbi Elliot Cosgrove, the spiritual leader at Park Avenue Synagogue in New York, picked up his pen and began to write his latest book, named for a line in Queen Esther's tale – For Such a Time As This: On Being Jewish Today.

Rabbi Cosgrove is with us now. Rabbi, welcome to People of the Pod.

Elliot Cosgrove:  

Thank you. It's great to be here. 

Manya Brachear Pashman:  

So I have to tell you, rehearsals began for this year's Purim spiel as I was reading this book, which made it all the more powerful. What inspired you to write this?

Elliot Cosgrove:  

Well, for me, I draw wisdom from text, and I was trying to think of what would be an analogous moment for what we were going through as American Jews from the ancient text. 

And for me, as you say, this is now on the cusp of Purim 2025, it was the story of Esther that we read. And in many of our synagogues, we have Purim spiels, where we act out the story, which is basically the story of a Jewish community of ancient Shushan who believed themselves to have it good, that they were comfortable in the diaspora. And the wicked decree of Haman came down and Esther, whose name actually means to hide, she hid herself, her Jewish identity in the king's palace, and believed that she was comfortable there. 

When the decree came down, Mordechai, her uncle, by way of an emissary, sent a message to her. “Don't think yourself to be safe from Haman's decree. Who knows, if it was not for such a time as this that you've arrived at your station.”

And I saw this as really the calling card of our moment that we all felt ourselves in the wake of October 7, Esther-like called to action. The trauma of October 7, but also the call to action, to step up to the moment, the needs of our people.

Manya Brachear Pashman:  

Tell us about your writing process.

Elliot Cosgrove:  

I buried myself in my writing from before dawn until mid-morning, and then I would hit a wall. And I didn't take a sabbatical. I actually went into my day job as a congregational rabbi. It was a very intense writing process and then in the course of about three to four months sent the manuscript off to the publisher. Manya, the thing about the book is it was very disorienting to write as the events were playing out, both in Israel and in the States.

And one of the worries that I had that I spoke to the publisher about was, well, what if this becomes dated? You know, it was not journalism, but I was writing as the news was happening, and the good news and the bad news is that the themes that I pick up on: the trauma of Israel, the blurred line between anti-Zionism and antisemitism, how we balance empathy and vigilance, the question of the hostages, of thinking about a day after for Israel and the Palestinians, these questions are not only still relevant, but they're actually more pressing than ever. So unfortunately, the themes that I hit on in the book, very much present right now.

Manya Brachear Pashman:  

How did that writing process help you personally process what you were witnessing and experiencing as a Jew in America?

Elliot Cosgrove:  

I'll say this, that as a rabbi, I often see my job–someone calls, they've just gotten bad news in the hospital, a loved one has passed away. Or a happy thing, that their child has just gotten engaged, or they themselves have just become new parents. And people turn to clergy to get the first line of constructing the narrative of what it is they are experiencing. 

And for me, there is something deeply personal and deeply pastoral about this book, because I feel like it's seeking, hopefully, to give the language to American Jews as to how to construct this new reality of a post October 7 existence, the jumble of emotions, of trauma, but also the emergence of Jewish identity, the likes of which we've never seen before, the argument for continued defense of Israel's right to self determination, as well as an assurance that the traumas of October 7 never happen again. And in the same breath to think actively about what does the day after look like. I think we're all searching for language for these and other tensions of our moment, and I'm hoping that the book is sort of a vocabulary builder for our time.

Manya Brachear Pashman:  

One word that you used many times in the book, and it stuck with me, just because maybe it's one of my favorite words, and that is empathy. And you used it in different chapters, different contexts. And I'm curious if you could share with the audience the role of empathy and how it is a guiding force, how it has been a guiding force since October 7.

Elliot Cosgrove:  

Empathy, both its presence and its absence, has been a subplot of this moment, because I think empathy is ingrained into the Jewish DNA. You open up the Passover Haggadah, and on the one hand, we know that we are vigilant against every generation a pharaoh arises to destroy us. We are guards up. We are a people who knows the importance of ancient hatreds, of being vigilant against them, and also the ring of fire that Israel sits in by way of Iran and its proxies. 

I mean, Israel's in a very tight spot, and American Jewry is in a very tight spot. And at the same time, empathy is who we are. You were once a stranger in a strange land. Therefore you should know the heart of a stranger. To be a Jew is to know that because of who we are, because of our historical experience, we care for the other. And I think that this is really one of the great tensions of our moment of how to, you know, be eyes wide open to Israel's need to self defense, and at the same time recognize the real suffering that's going on in Gaza and and to know that we need to find a way to hold both of those together.

That Israel needs to fight this war as if there's no tomorrow, and Israel has to fight this war with an eye to tomorrow, with the same ferocity that it prosecutes this war, it has to pursue a day after plan. And I think that somewhere along the way, it's the voices on the extremes who are speaking with the loudest megaphones. And the goal of this moment is to realize that we need to find a way to embrace both. 

I think it was Fitzgerald who said the test of a great mind is the ability to hold two opposing ideas and retain the ability to function. I think the test of the Jewish community right now is the ability to hold both vigilance and empathy at the same time and retain the ability to move forward with hope.

Manya Brachear Pashman:  

And how can empathy help here on American soil, where we're facing protesters, we're facing all kinds of opposition and questions and hatred because of what's happening overseas. How do we use empathy here on American soil?

Elliot Cosgrove:  

First of all, it's hard. It's hard. When you are under attack, the last thing anyone wants to do is feel someone else's pain. When someone is calling me a colonialist oppressor, when someone is calling for the destruction of the Jewish state, something which is part and parcel to my identity, core to my very being – my initial instinct is not to inquire into how they feel and have empathy. My initial instinct is to have shields of self-defense, prioritize the needs of my people over anyone else's. I think that's a human thing to do. 

And as long as the hostages are hostages, as long as Israel stands in a vulnerable position, I think we need to be eyes wide open to that, and then we need to breathe, and we need to remember what it means to be a Jew. 

And we need to remember that it takes two to tango, and that if we are going to create a future whereby Jews and Palestinians can live side by side in safety and self determination, then we need to realize that there are two peoples worthy of realizing that dream, and that requires empathy, Manya.

Manya Brachear Pashman:  

You were not always that religious or observant of your religious tradition. Can you tell our audience how you became a rabbi?

Elliot Cosgrove:  

How long do we have? This is a big question, but, look as with any way we construct our realities and tell our origin stories, there are a million ways to tell it. The truth of the matter is, I am the grandson of a congregational rabbi, an orthodox rabbi. So to say that I had somehow strayed from the path is a little bit of an overstatement. But I will say that I grew up in a traditional Jewish background. I'm very proud of the home I grew up in, but when I went off to college, it was very much something I did, Judaism was something I did at home. And I can't say that my first few years at my alma mater at University of Michigan were known by way of my religious affiliations and commitments.

And then I got a phone call my junior year of college, that a figure from my youth, a grandfather figure I never really knew. My grandparents had passed away, and he was a guy who used to sit next to us in synagogue and slip me up peppermint candy as the rabbi was about to start the sermon or come over for Passover Seders or Shabbat dinner, Mr. Gendun, and he had passed away. And I got the phone call. I said, What would Mr. Gendun want me to do? And I thought, maybe I'll say Kaddish. 

So I called one of my Jewishy friends. I had never been inside the Hillel building up until that moment. And I called up one of my Jewishy friends and I said, What's, where's the Hillel? And they said, you're an idiot, Elliot. It's this huge building right on campus at Michigan. And I went in and I said my Kaddish, and I was getting up like it was the end of an airplane ride just to run back out to whatever my evening plans were. 

And a man stood between me and the door, boxing me out, and I was trying to shimmy one way and the other. And he said, I notice you've never been here before. And he said, Well, I'm wondering if you'd like to come to Shabbat dinner. And I lied, truth be told, because I figure he didn't want to know about dollar pitcher night. And I said, I already have Shabbat plans. And he said, Well, do you have Shabbat plans next week? And I was caught in my tracks, and I said, No, and before I could say another word, he said, Good, then you'll come over for Shabbat dinner. 

And that man was Michael Brooks, who was the Hillel Director of the Michigan Hillel. I went over to Shabbat dinner. I got involved in the Israel group. I was an editor of the student journal. I sat on the Hillel governing board. One thing led to the other, and I became a rabbi.

But important [as] that story is obviously in my own religious formation and choice of vocation, is how it informs my own life and my own rabbinate. It's that ability to look around the room when you're in a class, a Jewish event, a service, and who's the person who looks a little out of place like they might have been there for the very first time, and just do that small human act of reaching out to them, and whether you're going to invite them to Shabbat dinner or not, but just to acknowledge their humanity, that has been the north star of my rabbinate ever since. We're all just human beings looking for a place to hang our hats.

Manya Brachear Pashman:  

You talk about empathy. I think empathy caught my attention every time you mentioned it in the book, because I think it's so key to journalism. It's such an important component of it. And then I think hospitality is such an important component to Judaism and to congregational life,

Elliot Cosgrove:  

Absolutely. Hospitality is something that is key to our text at the beginning of the Passover Seder. But hospitality is also a spiritual demeanor that we welcome people into our souls, into our presence, into our life. Hachnasat Orchim in Hebrew, this idea that there's always space within our souls, within our hearts. 

Manya Brachear Pashman:  

Having had such an important turning point on a university campus, how did you interact with, council, university students during this time, as they were facing such pressures and such opposition, crushing opposition during this past year and a half?

Elliot Cosgrove:  

So there's a chapter about that in the book. It's really the part of the book that I think has struck a nerve, and appropriately so, because I'm the father of four college age or thereabouts children.  And that story I tell about Maya, and Maya is a young woman who, I joke, shares half a brain with my own college age daughter. She's grown up in my household, and she is what you or I might identify as a non Zionist Gen zer, and she approached me and perhaps reproached me for having a Israeli flag on the pulpit, for doing the prayer for the State of Israel in the midst of the service, and said, you know, and she grew up in the Jewish Day School. She grew up going to Jewish summer camp. She did gap year programs in Israel. 

Not a small amount of money has been invested in the Mayas of the world, and she herself is asking whether or not her liberal, American Jewish self can be simpatico with the policies of this or that Israeli government, because they don't speak for her sensibility. And to this question of empathy, I think the first move one makes in any such situation is to try to understand where the other person is coming from. 

And I think a 21, 22, 23 year old is coming of age in a moment of time where the only Prime Minister they know of is Bibi Netanyahu, who either is or is beholden to the most right-wing elements of Israeli society. The only policies they know of the Israeli government are an expansionist policy in the West Bank, which has precluded the possibility of a two state solution. The only paradigm they have is an Israel which is a Goliath to the Palestinian David, this is their reality. 

You can't blame someone for the time into which they are born. I can pick apart and engage in a dialog on what's true and what's not true. But to tell someone that their reality is not, their reality is is not, you know, a move that one can make. And by the way, if they're during the time of the judicial reform, and to this day, there are 1000s of Israelis marching on the streets on a Saturday night protesting the Israeli government as an expression of their love of country. 

To tell the Mayas of the world, a college age student today, that they are treif, they are beyond the bounds of Jewish discourse, for doing the exact same thing is just an argument that doesn't hold water anymore. And so the the the goal here, Manya, is to engage with their questions, to listen intently, to prompt that young mind to come up with their own answers for the defense and the well being of the Jewish people, given the harsh realities that Israel faces, and also to make room for their very real question. So I look long on the Maya generation. It's actually a controversial moment within the organized Jewish community –do we write them off, do we not write them off? I think they're our future, and I think we do terrible damage to ourselves if we write them off.

Manya Brachear Pashman:  

Because it is such a time as this. We have to pay attention to the context, right, and to where we are in history, without losing sight of history.

Elliot Cosgrove:  

Look, it's very easy to take pot shots from the left and from the right. You know where this brave space is. The brave space is standing in the middle and dignifying the claims and counterclaims of both sides, and knowing that real leadership is trying to keep our people together.

Manya Brachear Pashman:  

Your book does such a beautiful job of inspiring that sense, sparking those, those right emotions in my head. So thank you so much for writing it. And I encourage all of our listeners to pick up a copy of Rabbi Cosgrove's book–For Such a Time as This: On Being Jewish Today. It is full of challenges, and I think that the challenge is worth facing and taking on. Thank you.

Elliot Cosgrove:  

Thank you so much, Manya.