August 29, 2025 | Shabbat Sermon
Most of you know I am a die-hard fan of the New York Yankees. I live each day with hopes that they will win and roll my eyes in frustration when they play terribly. Most of us expect the teams we root for to not only win but to act with a sense of what is just and right. It is not just on the field but in their business operations as well. We also become concerned about the moral character of the players on the teams we root for. Sometimes, people brush that aside, and at other times, we really struggle to root for players who have checkered pasts.
So, you can imagine my surprise when I saw a headline ten days ago in The Athletic that read, “Yankees drafted player after he admitted he drew swastika on Jewish student’s door in college. Why?” That is a long headline, but it had to capture the breadth of what anyone who might have heard about this moment would have thought. Corey Jackson was drafted in the 5th round of the Major League Baseball Amateur Draft in July. In 2021, as a 17-year-old freshman at the University of Nebraska, Jackson drew a swastika on the door of a Jewish student. A year earlier, before the 2024 draft where he went undrafted, Jackson called teams to tell them about the incident. He admitted to being blackout drunk when he drew the swastika and had no recollection of the incident or why he did it. He admits that he made “a really stupid mistake” and that he has learned and grown since that time and is “no longer the person he was when it all happened.”
The Yankees’ Director of Amateur Scouting, Damon Oppenheimer, said the team’s decision to draft Jackson involved the most “thorough due diligence” they have ever done with a player in his 23 years in that position. The decision was cleared by owner Hal Steinbrenner and the situation was discussed with top Jewish leaders in the organization, including team president Randy Levine. And now the question is, why? How did they come to agree to do this?
When he was first meeting with teams in 2024, Jackson met with the Boston Red Sox. At the end of his interview, they asked him if there was anything else he wanted to share. He told them about the swastika incident, and everyone, including his agent Blake Corosky, found out about it at that moment. At the time of the incident, Jackson said he didn’t know the student, and he broke down in tears the next day when someone told him what he had done. Jackson said, “I felt like the worst person in the world. I don’t want there to be any excuses for my actions.” He wanted to apologize to the student, but he was told by campus police not to contact him. He was fined by the university and told to undergo basic sensitivity training. When Corosky heard about the incident, he considered ceasing his representation of the young shortstop.
However, Corosky also represents Jacob Steinmetz, who pitches in the minors for the Arizona Diamondbacks and is the first Orthodox Jewish player ever drafted. Corosky decided to call Steinmetz’s father, Elliot, who is the head basketball coach for Yeshiva University. Steinmetz was angry. After telling the coach that Jackson was extremely remorseful and that he didn’t understand exactly what he had done, Steinmetz calmed down and suggested that the agent try to educate Jackson about antisemitism. After calling Jackson, Steinmetz is quoted in The Athletic saying, “Right away you could tell he was the nicest, sweetest kid in the world, but dumb as rocks when it came to these kinds of issues.” He had no understanding of the history of the symbol, its connection to Nazi Germany, or that it is still used by neo-Nazis worldwide. He had grown up in a Christian household in Wyoming, Ontario—a rural town 30 minutes from Michigan—and had really never met any Jewish people. Steinmetz told Jackson, “If I walked into a hall and saw a swastika, I’d be angry. My grandparents would be freaked out and terrified by it.”
Corosky then told Jackson he would keep advising him if he met two requirements: he had to call every team and own up to what he did, and he had to work on some intense training to understand why what he did was hurtful and awful. Coach Steinmetz reached out to the head of Holocaust studies at Yeshiva University’s Holocaust Education program, who put him in touch with graduate student Ann Squicciarini. Squicciarini designed a five-week course for Jackson that included videos and readings, and the two met each week for an hour. Neither Steinmetz nor Squicciarini was paid for their work.
Ari Kohen, Head of Holocaust Studies at the University of Nebraska, feels it is critical for society to learn how to teach antisemitism and raise awareness of all forms of bigotry among young people today. He said, “If we drive to punish, that doesn’t allow us to take that teachable opportunity. There’s a lot that I think we miss.” After numerous meetings with top Yankee officials, Oppenheimer said, “I feel that moving forward, we’ve got a good citizen, a good person, and a good baseball player.”
While we’re not likely to see Jackson playing in Yankee Stadium for several more years, the story carries with it an important lesson in teshuvah, repentance. Jackson said he understands that people may be upset by what he did, but he would “ask for their forgiveness and let them know I am not the same person I was when that happened. I’ve grown up. I’ve learned. I’ve reconciled. I’ve done things I needed to do to learn about it.” Repentance is clearly more than saying we are sorry. Yes, Jackson recognized that he had a goal and his past stood in the way. While he realized he was wrong initially, he needed to do more. He needed personal growth to recognize the impact of his actions. His road to growth and change included owning up to his past and diving deep to understand how his actions relate to a history of hate.
Earlier this week, we entered the month of Elul—the final month of the year before the High Holy Days. We begin to hear the sound of the shofar, which serves as a wake-up call. In her book From Time to Time, Rabbi Dalia Marx explains that the Hebrew word Elul is borrowed from the Babylonian month Elulu or Ululu, while others believe it comes from Akkadian, meaning “purify.” In her chapter on this month, she shares a reflection adapted from the great Jewish theologian and philosopher Martin Buber:
In moments of great stillness
When we contemplate things which no mouth can utter—
At that hour, let us deepen the insight that we have.
Let us look inward.
Let us lift up our lives as if we were lifting a bucket from a well.
It is incumbent upon us to strive for self-understanding.
It is incumbent upon us to balance the forces working in our souls.
We can imagine Corey Jackson sitting somewhere alone in the summer of 2024, after failing to achieve his dream, wondering what he had done that led to this failure and disappointment. In his contemplation—perhaps in his tears—he realized by looking inward that he had to act and think differently. Sometimes we need the help of others to change the course of our direction. Lifting up our lives like lifting a bucket from a well is a source of sustenance. It is the drinking water that gives us life and quenches the aridness of our souls. Jackson had to gain self-understanding and balance the forces working in his soul. While we might think drawing a swastika is evil, for Jackson it came from naiveté. He needed to learn and to work diligently on his soul.
Parshat Shoftim, always read during the first or second Shabbat of Elul, begins with the establishment of a justice system. Moses instructs the Israelites to appoint magistrates and officials in all their gates and instructs them to govern with due justice. Seeking a spiritual understanding of this text, the Hasidic Torah commentary Iturey Torah teaches that this opening verse requires inner mindfulness. Rabbi Alan Lew, in his book This Is Real and You Are Completely Unprepared, explains that the gates refer to the seven windows into the soul: two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, and the mouth. Everything that passes into our consciousness comes through one of these gates. Spiritually, these words are not just about appointing judges, but about the self-understanding needed for personal growth.
Adding to the seasonal tie-in of this Torah portion, we consider the famous verse, Tzedek, tzedek tirdof—“Justice, justice shall you pursue.” Hasidic commentator Sefat Emet explains that the repetition of the word tzedek indicates that the pursuit of justice and righteousness is endless. The Hebrew word for truth, emet, is comprised of the first, middle, and final letters of the Hebrew alphabet—alef, mem, and tav. The pursuit of truth is likened to the process of teshuvah, a return to light and Torah. This process requires us to thoroughly examine every corner of our soul and every action we’ve performed.
The month of Elul offers us a Psalm—Psalm 27. Much like Corey Jackson took a five-week course to understand the impact of his actions, Psalm 27 serves as a four-week course giving us insight into our souls. One verse stands out:
“V’atah yarum roshi al oyvai s’vivotai—Now my head rises above my enemies roundabout; v’ezb’cha v’ohalo zivchei t’ruah ashira v’azam’rah l’Adonai—and in God’s tent I will offer offerings with shouts of joy; I will sing and chant praises to the Eternal.”
To raise our heads above our enemies can be a metaphor for doing the sacred work of recognizing the forces that lead us to err. Rising above these forces and returning to God’s sacred words is represented by the offerings and songs—where God welcomes us back with love.
The work of teshuvah is difficult. It requires time and great effort. Our pursuit of this soulful tzedakah—our commitment to righteous living—must be constant and relentless. A story is told of the great 19th-century Mussar master Rabbi Israel Salanter, who once walked late at night and saw a light shining in one home. Inside, he found a tailor bent over his work by the light of a candle about to burn out. “Why are you working so late with such a small light?” he asked. The tailor replied, “As long as the flame is still burning, one can still fix what is wrong.”
This is our lesson. This is our month. This is our season to do the sacred work of growth. The light of Torah is always shining. It is drawing us down the path to turn and grow. Why did the Yankees draft a kid who drew a swastika on the door of a Jewish student? Because he did the difficult work of learning from his actions and committing to change. How do we walk the path of righteousness and a full life? By examining our actions, understanding their impact, and committing to change.
Kein yehi ratzon.