Rabbi joseph ehrenkranz is in the middle of telling his favorite anecdote about Pope John Paul II. He’s seated at a desk littered with books and stacks of letters and papers, impeccably dressed in a gray suit, power tie and a blue-and-white yarmulke. He gestures expressively with both hands.
“There were about fifteen or twenty young seminarians jockeying for position to get their picture taken with the Pope,” he says. “The Pope is seated at the top of some stone steps — he was already quite frail and sick by then, so the mood was quite serious — and the young men are all adjusting their collars, smoothing down their cowlicks. You know, making sure they look just perfect for this once-in-a-lifetime photo op …” The rabbi begins to smile, “… and just as the camera snaps, the Pope reaches out and musses up the hair of the two men on either side of him.” He laughs out loud. “I loved that.”
Very few of us have a Pope story to tell, let alone a funny Pope story. Rabbi Ehrenkranz comes by his rightly. He is cofounder and executive director of the Center for Christian and Jewish Understanding (CCJU), an educational-and-research division of Sacred Heart University.
The CCJU, one of twenty-one such centers across the country, is a direct outgrowth of the Second Vatican Council and the teachings of Pope John Paul II. The concluding paragraphs of the Council’s proclamation, ratified by the College of Cardinals in 1965 and are called Nostra Aetate, are a groundbreaking declaration insisting on interfaith dialogue and respect. It begins, “In our time, when … mankind is being drawn closer together … the Church examines more closely the relationship to non-Christian religions.” It was time, according to Pope John Paul II, to throw open the window of the Church and let in fresh air.
“Since then, the Catholic Church has examined its past and the ramifications of the condemnation of other faiths, especially the Jews,” says Rabbi Ehrenkranz, whose optimism and determination appear indefatigable. “It’s been progressively good news. Even though most Christians don’t know about it and Jews don’t believe it, it can happen,” he adds firmly.
In the Beginning
All Ehrenkranz needed was a kindred soul who was passionately committed to a better world. He found that in Anthony Cernera, Ph.D., co-founder of the CCJU and president of Sacred Heart University.
“I’m an Italian kid who grew up in the Bronx surrounded by Jewish families. I had been to fourteen bar mitzvahs by the time I was sixteen,” says Cernera. “But then in college, I read Viktor E. Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning. It had a profound impact on me. I had no idea how deep the wound was. I made a promise to myself. I vowed that if I was ever in a position where I could do anything to improve the relationship between Christians and Jews, I would.”
Years later, after he had become the president of the university, Cernera was walking through campus and realized, suddenly, that he was now in that position. “Hey, I can do it,” he said to himself. “I’m the president!” That’s when he met Rabbi Ehrenkranz and the pair created the Center in 1992.
For forty-five years, Ehrenkranz was rabbi for the Congregation Agudath Sholom in Stamford, but his commitment reached beyond the pulpit. He served on committees and worked with humanitarian organizations that ranged from the local level, such as the Stamford Forum for World Affairs and the Stamford/Darien Clergy Association, to the national level in such organizations as the National Conference of Christians and Jews and the National Rabbinical Cabinet of the United Jewish Appeal, to worldwide organizations, such as the Rabbinic Committee for Interreligious Dialogue, of which he is both cofounder and still cochairman.
But it was time for a change. He was ready to take on the challenge of heading up the CCJU. “He has extraordinary genius,” says Cernera.
globe trotting for a cause
Rabbi Ehrenkranz’s obligations for the CCJU send him all over the world. He traveled to Moscow in 1976 when the Communists allowed the Jews only limited access to their heritage. “I came to bring them their past,” he says.
He and Cernera accompanied Pope John Paul II to Jerusalem in March 2000. They visited the Western Wall where the faithful — and curious — come from all over the world to pray, to mourn, to honor and perhaps feel the Lord’s presence. Visitors tuck notes of prayer into crevices in the rocks. “Pope John Paul folded a paper with a prayer for peace and understanding among the faiths and slid it firmly into a crack in the wall. Moments like this are what convince me that we can make it happen,” he says.
He went to Cairo at the invitation of then-President Anwar el-Sadat in 1978. “Esmat Meguid, the chairman of the Egyptian delegation to the United Nations, delivered a speech in which he said that Sadat was pursuing peace with Israel,” explains Rabbi Ehrenkranz, “and all the Arab representatives walked out. I called Meguid after that to tell him, ‘How’s that make you feel? You used to do that.’ Megud invited me to Egypt, as the guest of Anwar Sadat, to get a feel for the situation. When I visited with him, Sadat admitted that if he thought he could destroy the state of Israel, he would have declared war, and he knew he could — but it would take too many years and cost the lives of too many Egyptian boys.”
Rabbi Ehrenkranz is matter-of-fact, as though everyone has had a chat with a world leader or two. He mixes politics with spirituality and humor. He is approachable yet intense. “If we are to survive,” he says, “we have to understand one another.”
Over the years, he has been to more than a couple of dozen countries, met with internationally influential political and religious leaders and been on the front page of the New York Times. “I take the initiative,” he says, as though it were nothing. “That’s the only way we can even hope for success.”
But now there’s a new challenge. The CCJU at Sacred Heart, as well as at other Christian and Jewish organizations around the world, has now begun to actively bring Muslims into discussions. In Brussels, Belgium, in January 2005, Ehrenkranz attended the first World Congress of Imams and Rabbis for Peace.
“It was difficult,” he explains. “The Muslims are new to this. They aren’t quite ready for dialogue, yet they are the fastest-growing religious group in the world. Think about this: There are 2 billion Christians, only 13 million Jews, and 1.2 billion Muslims.” He becomes more stern as he talks. “At the conference, each faith accused the other of being separatists. It was more of a confrontation than a consensus, and we realized we had much further to go than we thought, just to get started.
“For example, the organizers had scheduled about an hour and a half to discuss some sections of problematic text. One part of the Koran says that to save a life will earn a man eternal reward; yet in another, it says that nonbelievers are infidels and deserve death. That was just the beginning. We needed days to talk.”
In April Rabbi Ehrenkranz attended a conference at the University of Qatar. “That was outstanding,” he says. “There were only eleven Christians, eleven Jews and many, many Muslims. But when one of the Muslim representatives spoke out loudly, denigrating the state of Israel, the facilitator stopped him. She apologized and said the man would not be invited back.” The university, the rabbi explains, is committed to finding a means of peaceful, constructive relations between all faiths. In May he traveled to Auschwitz where he met up with Pope Benedict. He then continued on to Monaco to attend the Crans Montana Forum, an organization dedicated to exploring global issues like poverty, ecology and world hunger.
In the meantime, the CCJU continues its work here. “The Center has four basic goals,” says David Coppola, Ph.D., director of Conferences and Publications. “Scholarship (we are developing a body of literature and teach courses for credit at the university); training future religious leaders; educating the world’s current leaders and teachers; and, lastly, promoting leadership.”
The work is demanding and, frankly, daunting. Rabbi Ehrenkranz spreads his hands out on the surface of his desk. “What I want to do,” he says firmly, “is to go everywhere, knock on every door and tell everyone how important this is. Obviously, I can’t do that, so I have to get the message to the clergy and the academicians, and they will spread the word.”
He does his best to spread the word himself, available always by international cell phone or e-mail, conducting interviews from the car on the way to the airport and providing a local arena for Christians and Jews — and Muslims — to work together to maybe, just maybe, make this a more peaceful world.
“It’s essential that we create a friendship,” says Cernera. “When you have a problem, you can’t go to someone you don’t trust. You need dialogue. When I started the Center, I wanted to call it the Center for Christian and Jewish Dialogue.
“Joe and I have been a great team for fourteen years,” says Cernera, “but we’ve created an organization with a life of its own. This is not about us; it’s about everyone’s commitment to interfaith understanding and world peace.”
Last year’s annual fundraising benefit in New York City brought more than 200 attendees and raised more than $400,000. Rabbi Ehrenkranz was the sole speaker, an established religious and political presence with Christian and Muslim leaders worldwide.
At home, however, Rabbi Ehrenkranz is simply Rabbi Joe, a man who loves his job and his wife and family, complete with twenty-three grandchildren. “Costs me a fortune in birthday presents,” he shakes his head and smiles. Sandy, his wife of twenty-one years, accompanies him on his travels. “One person can’t change the world in one lifetime,” she says, “but don’t leave for somebody else what you can do yourself.”
For most of us, world peace is a dream; for Rabbi Joe, it’s a full-time job. Looking younger than his eighty years and projecting more energy than most thirty-year-olds, he tells anyone who asks when he plans to retire: “As long as God gives me strength, I am continuing here. I’m committed to this.”