opinion
Purim in Okinawa: A Chaplain Realizes
He Almost Missed His Calling
Rabbi Zevi Lowenberg
J ust like millions of Jews around
the world, I am immersed in
Purim preparations, both spiri-
tual and logistical. I am taking
stock of the stock of groggers
and hamentaschen, finding chari-
ties and organizations for matanot l’evyonim, gifts
to the poor, and organizing a megillah reading. I am
contemplating the ancient story of vulnerability and
courage in which a Jewish community saved itself.

The Book of Esther has special resonance for
me this year. It’s my first at Kadena Air Base on
Okinawa, the tiny tropical island that’s home to more
than 26,000 American service members and their
families. I serve as chaplain to the Jewish commu-
nity, about 50 strong.

Life here is entirely colored by the experience
of being at the “tip of the spear” in the Pacific. We
sit closer geographically to both China and North
Korea than we do to Tokyo, the capital of Japan.

Deployments both off island and to the island are
numerous and constant. The constant ear-splitting
noise of fighter jets reminds us of the freedom we
enjoy and the threat that looms across the sea.

These aren’t air shows the pilots are training for: It’s
the ever-present potential of conflict. When we go
through a base-wide exercise, it’s not just for play,
it’s for the worst-case scenario that is a constant
prick in the back of our minds.

The approach of Purim heightens our sense of
the incredible responsibility to be the protectors,
not just of ourselves, but of our community and our
neighbors. Serving side-by-side with the Japanese
forces, on deployments with allies in the region and
from around the world, traveling to different bases in
the Indo-Pacific region, each of these moments has
caused me to reflect on my opportunity as a rabbi
to be the calming presence and to be the vessel into
which people are able to pour their deepest worries,
their darkest moments, and find light. Mordechai’s act
of heroism started with one simple action: listening.

Yet for the 10,000 Jews serving in the U.S. armed
forces around the world, there are only 37 chaplains.

What’s more, in the Indo-Pacific region, which is
increasingly important as the United States contends
with China, we have 400 Jewish service members and
only two chaplains. I am one, and the other, based in
Korea, is scheduled to leave in the next six months.

When Jewish military communities don’t have access
to a Jewish chaplain, they are vulnerable. Some have
suffered from an inadequate supply of ritual foods
and objects at holiday times. Others are scared or
anxious and seek in-person counsel, not a Zoom
session. Until recently, the military Jewish commu-
nity of Djibouti in the Horn of Africa was conducting
Shabbat services in a shipping container after being
ejected from the chapel.

Jews like these are in deep need of a Mordechai,
someone who will sit, listen, care. Mordechai’s
service became an essential element in saving not
just the life of the king, but the lives of so many
members of the Jewish communities of Persia. I am
so grateful to do this work. Yet even my service as
chaplain almost didn’t happen.

pursue that same career, but that being a rabbi in the
military was exactly what I was being called to do.

It was JWB, for example, who intervened to find
the Djibouti Jews an alternative to their shipping
container. And it was JWB that “endorsed” me to
the Department of Defense after I was ordained
in 2020 by the Jewish Theological Seminary, the
Conservative Movement’s flagship institution. Since
1945, when Americans first took Okinawa during the
waning months of World War II, there has been a
continued rabbinic presence on the island. I am proud
of the lineage I now inherit as the senior active duty
rabbi in the region, especially as the eyes of the world
turn towards us and the growing threats in the region.

We need more Jewish chaplains to keep creating
places of community for Jewish military families in
this ever-changing landscape of military life.

Growing up in Baltimore, I knew that Jews had
been serving in the military since the founding of
our nation, taking part in the battles and wars that
defined each generation. I cherished the stories
of my grandfathers in World War II, serving both at
home and overseas, the stories of my great-uncles
in Korea, my dad’s generation and their experiences
surrounding Vietnam. I too wanted to serve in the
military, wherever that path would lead. Unlike most
of my high school friends who chose to go to schools
with large Jewish communities, I chose West Virginia
University in the hills of Morgantown, where I joined
the Air Force ROTC program, completely unaware of
the chaplaincy and rabbis who served alongside the
soldiers, sailors, marines and airmen.

I found Jewish life at Hillel and, at Hillel, I found a
siddur, a prayer book published by the JWB Jewish
Chaplains Council in the World War I era. Now a
signature program of the JCC Association of North
America, JWB was founded in 1917 to serve Jewish
soldiers fighting in that conflict. The book’s black
cover had grayed, its white pages yellowed with
time, the whole thing one strong breeze from simply
turning to dust. There was no saying how it had
ended up on the bookshelves there, but it spoke
to me, its history and heritage. That book planted a
seed, which flowered when I met an actual chaplain
in person and it dawned on me that not only could I
Mordechai understood that to speak is essential,
but only if he was able to listen first. I write this article
because I want other young people to understand,
as I did after finding that prayer book and meeting
that chaplain, that this holy work is an option for
them, too.

We need more Jewish chaplains to keep creating
places of community for Jewish military families in
this ever-changing landscape of military life. The
Jewish community is better served when families
and kids know that this job exists and that we as
military rabbis exist, when it’s spoken of in the
community not as a job that was once done, but that
is currently being done around the world, by Jewish
clergy from the Reform, Conservative, Orthodox
and Chabad movements, when kids know all their
options. Representation matters — in sports, in
politics, in media and in the clergy, and it is my hope
that one day kids will grow up knowing that they can
be authentically Jewish, that they can serve their
country as both military leaders and Jewish commu-
nity leaders, in the same incredible job that I am so
privileged to have today. ■
Rabbi Zevi Lowenberg, an Air Force captain, is a
Baltimore native and a chaplain serving the Jewish
community at the Kadena Air Base in Okinawa,
Japan. JEWISHEXPONENT.COM
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