Sam Woll - A Charismatic, Passionate Pursuer of Peace and Justice

“Rabbi, our Hillel needs to stop buying Coke products.”

This was the first thing Samantha Woll said to me when I started my new job at the University of Michigan Hillel Foundation in 2004. It was odd hearing Sam call me “Rabbi.” First, I had only very recently been ordained so I still wasn’t used to the title. And, second, I had known Sam since she was in elementary school – a classmate and friend of my younger brother – so the formality felt unnecessary and perhaps dramatic. But Sam was being respectful.

Ban Coke at Hillel? I thought the request seemed odd. I grew up in a home that never had Pepsi because that company adhered to a boycott of Israel when I was a kid. I seem to recall my mom telling me that Jews drink Coke and non-Jews drink Pepsi. Looking back it seems like she was getting her information less from Middle East politics and more from Lenny Bruce.

I listened to Sam’s impassioned arguments that the Coca-Cola corporation was complicit in human rights abuses and environmental violations in Colombia and India. She knew her stuff. I would come to learn that about Sam Woll – agree or disagree with her, she always knew the facts of the case. As Sam continued her argument about why not only Hillel should stop buying Coca-Cola products, but the entire University should suspend their contracts, my mind immediately went to the more than 100 two-liter bottles of Coke and Sprite in the Hillel basement. We put two bottles on every table for Shabbat dinner every Friday night, not to mention all the Coke bottles we served in our daily kosher lunch program and just about every event we hosted in the building. Weekly, we’d receive deliveries of pallets of these Coke bottles. I likely had a 6-pack of Diet Coke in my office at the time and I was most likely sipping on a can as Sam pleaded her case with me. Two thoughts crossed my mind after that conversation with Sam. One, this energetic young person was going to be an amazing congresswoman someday. And, two, what had I gotten myself into with this new job? 

I hadn’t planned to be a Hillel rabbi. After six years at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York, I had only looked for jobs at synagogues around the country. But, with a newborn baby and all of our family in the Metro Detroit area, when I got a call from the executive director I jumped at the opportunity. Looking back it was the ideal first job for me as a rabbi. Precisely because of students like Samantha Woll. 

Sam taught me how to listen. She would ride her bicycle with the wide handlebars to Hillel wearing her hippy-slash-Modern Orthodox chic clothing with a large scarf and a bandana in her jet-black curls. Sam was a regular at Shabbat dinners and holiday meals, often bringing her non-Jewish friends to join her. She had friends in just about every faith community on campus. She was involved in anything related to social justice. Sam was the chairperson of both the Tzedek (social action) group and the VIA (Volunteers in Action) group. She seemed to show up at every event. Usually at the tail end. And she’d stay long after most people had left, sticking around to engage in heated discussions. Sam was captivating when she spoke. She always spoke from her heart, but she was whip-smart too. What a combination! When you talked with Sam she would always look you directly in the eyes and her gaze stayed there throughout the discussion. She would let you talk and her active listening skills were evident as she nodded repeatedly to your every argument. But then she would take over and you had no choice but to listen. Our mantra at Hillel was that the students run the show and the staff was there in a supporting role. It was an important first stop for me in my rabbinate because it taught me the value of stepping back and letting the students develop their leadership skills. I learned to hear others' opinions and consider different ways of thinking about a myriad of important topics. I was the rabbi at Hillel, but Samantha Woll was my teacher there. 

Oftentimes, Sam and I would be engaged in a deep conversation at Hillel after Friday night dinner and she would want to continue the discussion so she'd join me on my walk home. I remember watching in awe as Sam debated with an Orthodox student about the Jewish view of abortion during a Passover lunch. From Muslim-Jewish relations to Israel to income inequality to the Coca-Cola corporation, Sam was always fired up. She was a Zionist. She was an advocate. She wanted to fix our broken world. This was Sam’s agenda on a daily basis.

I might not have always agreed with her opinion, but I respected it and I was always left in awe of how much she knew and how much she cared. She truly exemplified tikkun olam, which came from a deep place in her heart. In 2005, Sam was presented with an award at our annual end-of-the-year gala for her dedication to tzedakah (charitable righteousness) and social action.

In more recent years, I relived these discussions with Sam and that fire was still there. Whenever I saw her, she would ask me, "How's Jake?" She was genuinely interested to know how my brother was doing. We sat together at a Hillary Clinton event in 2016. We immediately became engaged in a discussion about the campaign, the impact of the upcoming election, and the issues with which Sam was involved. As Hillary approached our section, Sam handed me her phone and I took a photo of these two remarkable women. 

At the end of February 2020 (right before the pandemic), I was a guest rabbi at a synagogue in Lansing for Shabbat. Seeing Sam's friendly face in the congregation made my day. When I saw her walk into the hallway, I left the service and followed her out so we could catch up. Sam invited me to an Elissa Slotkin event the next day and explained why she found Elissa to be the type of politician she could back 100%. Again, Sam's passion was remarkable and her insight into so many issues was impressive. 

The past couple of summers, Sam and her parents and her sister's family have been at Camp Michigania during the same week as our family. This past summer, Sam eagerly told me about the renovation project of her beloved Downtown Synagogue, where she had been serving as the congregational president. She told me about the work she was doing with Dana Nessel, Michigan's Attorney General. And of course, she told me (with that same fire) about the many social justice initiatives she was working on in the City of Detroit. The revitalization of Detroit was one of Sam's righteous causes and her role as a change agent has been obvious.

Sam was such a kind and generous soul. Sam loved all people. She cared deeply about the livelihood, freedom, and fairness that everyone, from all walks of life, deserved. There’s a photo that’s been circulating on social media of Sam holding a Torah scroll close to her body on the Detroit River Walk. When I first saw the photo I immediately thought that Samantha Woll is literally holding the Torah close to her heart just as she has always held her own torah close to her heart. Her deeply held convictions and her sense of justice – those were the values that made up Sam’s torah. 

What happened to her is so horrific, so tragic and so terrible. Our broken world is even more broken now that Sam has left us. We've lost one of our globe's best and brightest. May the memory of Samantha Woll be for blessings and may her family and all who loved Sam find comfort during this time of shock and sorrow. 

Rabbi Jason Miller taught Samantha Woll’s 8th grade Mishna class at Hillel Day School as a substitute teacher and had the honor of learning with and from her at the University of Michigan Hillel. He is not the least bit surprised that the University of Michigan suspended its contracts with the Coca-Cola corporation in 2006 as a result of pressure from students like Sam. He also considers himself a better human being for having known Sam Woll, z”l.

Understanding Jews for Jesus After the Mike Pence Rally

When a member of the Jews for Jesus messianic movement who refers to himself as a "rabbi" was asked to give a prayer in memory of the eleven Jews who were murdered at Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, there were a lot of questions about this group and why this was offensive to the Jewish community. The event was a rally for Republican candidates in Michigan and featured Vice President Mike Pence. A Jewish woman running for Congress, Lena Epstein, claimed responsibility for inviting the Messianic "Rabbi" to the event in the name of unity and claimed that if people are critical of her invitation, then they are religiously intolerant.

Loren Jacobs, a Messianic Christian, delivers a prayer at a rally in Michigan with VP Mike Pence

After I heard the Messianic "Rabbi" speaking at the event on C-Span, I tweeted that it was pathetic that a mainstream rabbi wasn't asked to offer a blessing (NY Times, USA Today, AP). The issue wasn't that a non-Jew offered a prayer for the Jewish men and women who were murdered, but that a Christian was being referred to as a rabbi. It would have been more acceptable had there been several faith leaders including a rabbi.

The Detroit Jewish News asked me to explain to its readers why there was such an uproar over a Messianic “Rabbi” delivering a prayer at a political rally. What follows is what I wrote in the Detroit Jewish News:


Trying to Make Sense of Messianic “Judaism”

With the recent controversy of Loren Jacobs, a leader of a Bloomfield Hills church who calls himself a “rabbi,” delivering a politically-charged invocation at a Republican party rally featuring Vice President Mike Pence, there has been a lot of questions regarding the messianic “Judaism” movement.

The first time I had ever heard of messianic Jews or the group called “Jews for Jesus” was as a high school student. Preparing us for the college campus, teachers at my synagogue’s Hebrew High School informed us that there are proselytizing Christians who claim to be Jewish and seek to convert Jewish students to Christianity. Some of these “Jews for Jesus” adherents, we were taught, were in fact apostate Jews who had left our faith and believe Jesus is the messiah.

While I don’t recall any direct encounters with any proselytizing Christians during my four years at Michigan State University, I did have an unusual experience in a course called “The Foundations of Judaism.” The course was part of the Religious Studies Department and the teacher, Mark Kinzer, did a wonderful job teaching a wealth of material in the course. At that time, I was already planning to apply to rabbinical school and the lectures and reading material helped prepare me. My eight years at Hillel Day School were good for a foundational understanding, but Prof. Kinzer went much deeper into the history of Judaism. I presumed the instructor was Jewish, but I was not certain. On the final day of class, I asked him which denomination of Judaism he affiliated, and he simply stated, “it’s complicated.” I didn’t pry.

Several years later, after I had become a rabbi, I was working at the University of Michigan Hillel Foundation. I encountered Prof. Kinzer at a meeting for campus religious leaders. It was there that he explained he was a Messianic “rabbi.” I felt duped and confused at that moment. (He never alluded to his own theology during the class and never mentioned Christian messianism.) He explained that he was not part of the “Jews for Jesus” group and didn’t seek to convert anyone. While I appreciated Prof. Kinzer’s academic integrity and I learned from him, had he been introduced as a rabbi at an event, I would feel just as insulted as I felt after watching Loren Jacobs’ prayer.

So, how do we understand messianic “Judaism” and Jews for Jesus? And, why has the Jewish community been so upset that a so-called messianic “rabbi” offered a prayer at a recent political rally in Michigan?

Throughout the centuries, Jewish people were subject to intense missionary activity by the Catholic Church and various Protestant groups. Many Jews left Judaism and converted to Christianity, either by force or voluntarily. In early twentieth century America, attempts to convert Jews to Christianity were common, but often unsuccessful. In the 1970's, a new organization sponsored by Protestants was formed called “Jews for Jesus.” Other smaller groups, calling themselves “Messianic Jews,” followed.

Members of “Jews for Jesus” are encouraged to consider themselves to be “Completed Jews.” Some members are born Jews who accepted Jesus as their Lord, while others were not born Jewish, but consider themselves to now be Jewish. Essentially, this group’s mission is to convert Jews to Christianity.

Historically, Jews who converted to Christianity were often interested in staying far away from being identified with Judaism. However, “Messianic Jews” stress their Jewishness and demand to be recognized as Jews by the Jewish community. The members of “Jews for Jesus” or any other messianic “Jewish” group who were legitimately Jewish at first would now be considered apostate Jews, the term used for one who has taken the definitive step of professing and joining another religion.

An apostate is the term the Jewish community would apply to Loren Jacobs, the individual who delivered the prayer at the rally featuring Vice President Mike Pence (it was originally an invocation and then he was called back on stage to offer a memorial prayer for the victims of the synagogue massacre in Pittsburgh). Some have questioned why the Jewish community was so offended by Jacobs being asked to offer a prayer. Some in the Christian community were confused as to why the Jewish community couldn’t treat Jacobs’ words in an ecumenical fashion.

The issue for many in the Jewish community is that Jacobs self-identifies as a Jewish rabbi, which is offensive to Jews because he has chosen to become an apostate, recognizing Jesus as his Lord and savior. The fact that Loren Jacobs was introduced as a rabbi and Jewish leader was an affront to the Jewish community. It was unacceptable and insensitive. Had a non-Jewish faith leader been asked to deliver a memorial prayer for the Jewish victims who were murdered while in prayer, that would be have acceptable. Although, the ideal situation would have been to have a rabbi deliver the prayer or a variety of faith leaders offer prayer as has been the case in many of the memorial vigils around the world.

Judaism Now More Post-Denominational

The Jewish day school I attended for grade school and middle school was affiliated with the Conservative movement of Judaism. It was a member of the Solomon Schechter Day School Network, its headmaster was a Conservative rabbi, its curriculum was based on Conservative Jewish principles, and the rules that governed the school (e.g., kashrut) were predicated on Conservative Jewish doctrine. The vast majority of the approximately 500 students that made up the school were from families affiliated with Conservative synagogues. Only a couple handfuls of my peers at the Metro Detroit school came from Reform or Orthodox homes.

This all changed in 2008 when the school chose to disaffiliate from the Solomon Schechter network and become a community school. There were strong feelings about this decision on both sides, but ultimately the transition began and this school joined many other Jewish day schools around the country by shedding its Conservative movement ties. While the student body didn't grow much following this decision (although that had been the projection), the diversity of its student body has certainly been altered. There are now hundreds more Reform affiliated students in the school in addition to an influx of Modern Orthodox families.

At the time, I was surprised that the school made the decision to break with the Conservative movement because it had been a core part of the school's identity while I was a student there in the 1980s. I did, however, understand that this was just another move toward a post-denominational Judaism. Why would a day school limit itself by branding itself with one denomination when it could cast a wider net and attract more students? Waving the banner of post-denominational Judaism, day schools could also use the "Community School" appellation to explain away controversial policy practices.