Past Messages from the Dean
From August to May, the Dean distributes a monthly newsletter that includes updates for faculty and staff. Each newsletter also includes a message from the Dean. Messages are archived below from the past semester.
To see the most recent message from the dean, please visit the faculty and staff news page.
March 2025
Dear Colleagues,
Today is the festival of Purim, which celebrates the survival of the Jews in ancient Persia who were under threat of extermination from the genocidal intentions of Haman the Agagite. The story is recounted in the biblical book of Esther, named for the heroine of the story, Queen Esther, who uses her influence with King Ahasuerus to prevent Haman from carrying out his plan.
As those who are familiar with the holiday know, Purim is a carnivalesque festival, a day that celebrates the sudden and salvific reversal of fortunes of the Persian Jews; observances of the holiday often include costumes, playful, even scandalous sketches and jokes, and more than a little drinking. It’s a time to express gratitude and, in many ways, is the epitome of the old Jewish joke that describes all holidays as celebrations of the same story: “they tried to kill us, they failed, let’s eat.”
For all its fairy-tale quality, however, there’s one moment in the book of Esther that always stops me in my tracks and makes me do some serious soul-searching. It happens early in the story, when Esther’s uncle, Mordecai, informs her of Haman’s plot and charges Esther with the responsibility of speaking to the king to save her people. At first, Esther demurs, claiming that it is too risky for her to approach the king without having been invited for an audience. Mordecai’s response is short and powerful: “Do not imagine that you, of all the Jews, will escape with your life by being in the king’s palace…who knows, perhaps you have attained to royal position for just such a crisis.”
In a way, Mordecai’s charge to Esther is the biblical version of the widely shared poem by the Lutheran pastor, Martin Niemöller, “First They Came…,” which so powerfully condemns the silent complicity of German intellectuals and clergy during the rise of Nazism. But I think it’s actually a more precise call than Niemöller’s poem because it explicitly highlights Esther’s position of relative privilege and links that privilege with ethical responsibility. In other words, the call to speak out is not only in the eventual service of self-preservation (“They came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me”), it is specifically a function of having the privilege of speaking out, irrespective of whether those with privilege are under direct threat or not.
I have been thinking a lot about this kind of responsibility lately and how much it needs to inform my own actions. Unfortunately, we don’t lack occasions that call for some kind of response. And to be clear, I am not talking about public statements. Those are, in my view, largely performative and of little value. What I am talking about are messages and actions that make explicit our values, our priorities, and our commitments to the most vulnerable among us. It’s not only or even mostly about public defiance of the current administration, it’s about using whatever privilege we have to stand up for our own values, ensuring that the people who look to us for strength and support know that we are in their corner and that we see their struggles and anxieties.
The challenges we face in the coming months and years are significant. But we can only face them successfully if we don’t shy away from them, if we don’t duck and cover, if we lean into our mission and our individual and institutional commitments.
Sincerely,
Jeffrey
February 2025
Dear Colleagues,
The numerous executive orders that have been issued by the current administration over the past several weeks have created concern and anxiety for many members of our campus community. Our institutional leadership has been, and continues to be, looking into the fuller implications of these executive orders and how they may impact us.
I am writing now to assure you that we are committed to remaining true to the founding principles and mission of Brandeis University. It’s helpful to quote directly from our mission statement, since it captures so effectively the values that must continue to inform everything we do. We are a research university dedicated to the advancement of the humanities, arts, and social, natural, and physical sciences. And we are a liberal arts college, committed to the importance of a broad and critical education in enriching the lives of students and preparing them for full participation in a changing society, capable of promoting their own welfare, yet remaining deeply concerned about the welfare of others…. We strive to reflect the heterogeneity of the United States and of the world community whose ideas and concerns it shares…. We welcome students, teachers, and staff of every nationality, religion, and orientation, thereby renewing the American heritage of cultural diversity, equal access to opportunity and freedom of expression. Social justice is central to our mission and we believe that diverse backgrounds and ideas are crucial to academic excellence.
I recognize that many in our community—students, staff and faculty—are experiencing high levels of stress about the safety and security of loved ones, not to mention themselves. And I know that many are feeling deep concern about the future of the academic fields of study they are pursuing. As faculty, you are often the primary face of the institution to our students. You should feel free, to the extent that you are comfortable doing so, to give your students the space and time to express their own concerns to you. You don’t need to offer solutions, but just giving them the chance to talk about their anxieties will convey to them that we care deeply about their well-being.
I want to reaffirm my own sincere belief in the dignity and value of every person in our community. I remain fully committed to the transformative possibilities of education, and to providing those opportunities to every student, regardless of their identity, background, or status. I am proud of the broad range of academic programs we offer and dedicated to the core principles of academic freedom, which are the very bedrock of robust scholarly inquiry.
I will continue to support all members of our community during these challenging times and remind you of the many resources available to you through this website.
Sincerely,
Jeffrey
January 2025
Dear Colleagues,
Because the Jewish and Gregorian calendars don’t align it doesn’t always work out this way, but this year Martin Luther King, Jr. Day occurs at the same time that the annual cycle of weekly readings from the Pentateuch (Torah) has reached the three portions that narrate the story of Exodus from Egypt (Exodus chapters 1-13). The coincidence this year reminds us that the parallels between the biblical story and the experiences of African Americans from Emancipation in 1862 through the Civil Rights movement in the 1950s and 60s have informed some of the most powerful expressions of defiance and hope in US history, ranging from the African American spiritual, “Go Down Moses,” to Dr. King’s historic “Mountaintop” speech, which he delivered just a day before his assassination in April 1968.
It is especially important to be mindful of this legacy and its implications at a place like Brandeis, established as it was by the Jewish American community in the immediate aftermath of the Shoah amidst ongoing anti-Semitic persecution in the US, and characterized since its inception by the mission of healing the world and opening doors to those who have historically been excluded—Jews, but also other minoritized and disadvantaged communities. Indeed, now more than ever it is critical to embrace and reaffirm this heritage and history, not simply to congratulate ourselves for what we have accomplished, but to acknowledge that the work of liberation is an ongoing process, one that moves forwards—and, alas, backwards—in fits and starts. The resurgence of anti-Semitism in the last several years and the growing attacks on diversity and inclusion at the institutional, local, state, and federal levels are sobering reminders that we cannot afford to slacken in our efforts to achieve a more just, inclusive world, free of hate and intolerance, celebrating difference in all its forms.
Brandeis offers a very specific version of the parallels between the Jewish and African American experiences within the academic world, and I’ve been thinking about these correspondences in relation to the proposal President Levine brought to the community at the Faculty Meeting on January 17 for restructuring our academic organization. Brandeis is one of very few universities in the United States that has full-fledged departments (as opposed to programs) devoted to the study of the historical and contemporary experiences of both communities: NEJS and AAAS. The NEJS department was established at Brandeis in 1953, just five years after Brandeis came into existence. It took longer—and importantly, a public protest by students and faculty—to create AAAS, which was founded in 1969. But since their establishment, both departments have been trailblazers in their respective areas, homes to some of the most influential scholars in these explicitly inter- and trans-disciplinary fields of study. Both departments have been, and continue to be, remarkable not only because of their world-class faculty, but because they have drawn strength from the multiple disciplines that make them up and have provided extraordinary models for how scholars trained in different fields can learn from, and work with, one another to broaden and deepen the scope of inquiry.
I don’t think it’s accidental that these two departments—and I will add another department that offers the same model of interdisciplinarity, WGS, which officially became a department in 2020—that these three departments have modeled a more open, collaborative approach to teaching and research. All three of these departments are committed to the study of groups—Jews, African Americans, Women, Non-Binary and Queer folk—who have historically been excluded and isolated, denied access, and ghettoized. And they have responded to that disconnection by forging defiantly enriching ties both within their respective units and in collaboration with other programs and departments.
We can learn a lot from these departments as we engage in the daunting but essential task of reimagining Brandeis. We can draw inspiration from the liberatory academic projects that they each embody. And we can even take some solace in the fitful progress each has made, experiencing setbacks and resistance even as they continue to innovate and evolve.
I look forward to working with you in the coming months as we take on the hard work of breaking down barriers, building structures that include more than they exclude, and innovating to create a new model for higher education in the Twenty-first century.
Sincerely,
Jeffrey