Rabbi Steven Moskowitz

Bo Sermon

2012-01-30T13:02:00.001-08:00

In this week’s Torah portion we read of the final threeplagues: locusts, darkness and the killing of the Egyptian first born. That darkness must have been really terribleafter spending all those days covered with swarming locusts. That darkness was a torture of memories ofprior plagues.

Much of the focus of these plagues is obviously about how werespond to our enemies. The message isclear. If they don’t do what is rightthen bring on the plagues. To reiterate,we have every moral right to battle our enemies, and even if necessary to killthose who threaten us. Whether it isPharaoh, Amalek, Haman; bin Laden, Hamas or Iran we have that moral right. Clearly Israeland America live by thisprinciple in the current clandestine war against Iran, and in particular against itsefforts to build nuclear weapons.

We are however limited in this fight. We can only kill those who threaten us. When the military is used as a means to meteout swift justice this transgresses basic democratic principles. Thus we must carefully use the military onlyagainst those who threaten our lives. Thatis its purpose; it is that purpose alone that the military serves—namelydefense.

But what about our enemies within? These issues and their related moral judgmentsonly apply to our external enemies. Althoughwe face painful and wrenching choices in confronting these external enemies,the moral lines seem very clear. Ofcourse you must defend yourself. As longas we never lose sympathy for other human beings, we can strike out againstthose who threaten us. In confrontingthese enemies we must always remember that even our enemies are deserving ofhumanity. Today we see before us many painfulchoices, but clear answers.

Then again, what about the questions regarding our enemieswithin? If you think about it theremainder of the Torah is all about our internal battles and confronting thesenaysayers and internal enemies. Afterthe plagues it was all about how we get along with each other. “Not so well,” is the Torah’s short answer. Then again that Torah is still being written. We are still very much wandering through thatwilderness. Today there is a battlegoing on for the soul of Judaism. We arenearly at war with each other over the Jewish future. Clearly military might cannot be used toachieve our desired ends. Thus how weface the enemies within our own midst is a more difficult and even morewrenching question.

I am not sure if everyone has kept up with some of thisnews, so let me offer some sobering illustrations. In Israel especially the struggle forthe soul of Judaism, and the definition of what it means to be a Jew, isreaching a fever pitch and perhaps even a breaking point. A few examples from the news. Organizers of a conference on women’s healthand Jewish law barred women from speaking from the podium, leading at leasteight speakers to cancel. Ultra-Orthodoxmen spit on an eight-year-old girl whom they deemed immodestly dressed. The chief rabbi of the air force resigned hispost because the army declined to excuse ultra-Orthodox soldiers from attendingevents where female singers performed. Protesters depicted the Jerusalem police commanderas Hitler on posters because he instructed public bus lines with mixed-sexseating to drive through ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods. Vandals blacked out women’s faces on Jerusalem billboards. A distinguished professor of pediatrics whosebook won an award from the Ministry of Health was instructed that she could notsit with her husband at the ceremony and that a male colleague would accept herprize for her because women were forbidden from the stage.

To be sure Israelis far superior than its neighbors in terms of women’s rights. This does not mean, however, that this battleshould be forgotten, or the struggle avoided. There are other examples of the increasing Haredization of Judaism in Israel. Some extremist settler rabbis have begun tospeak about the lives of Jews as more precious than that of others, therebybetraying the Torah’s principle that all human beings are created in God’simage. Still it appears that thegreatest fault line exists over women’s rights.

I do not wish to debate who understands the tradition betterand who can cite texts to support their position with greater authority. I can cite Jewish tradition as to why thereshould not be such limits on women’s rights. I can quote some of my Orthodox colleagues who are slowly changingthings in their own community (see especially Dov Linzer’s New York Times article for evidence of this). That as well is not my interest.

What makes me a Reform rabbi is that I can stand here andsay that thousands of years of Jewish tradition is wrong and it needs to change. This is the essence of Reform—we must reformthe tradition, we must change it. In anutshell, Reform places change front and center. Our first response is to reform what in ourjudgment is wrong. As a contrast ourConservative friends place conserving the tradition first. Their first response is to preserve the tradition. Change is a last resort and even then it isdressed up as reinterpretation, or the rediscovery of a minority opinion.

Such distinctions are matters of differences between friends. Reform, Conservative and Orthodox seek tolive as Jews in the modern world. Allattempt to make their way both as Jews and moderns. Our differences should not be with ourConservative and Orthodox friends. Ourdifferences are instead with the Haredi, the ultra-Orthodox, who shuneverything modern. They wish to live ina world only of yesteryear.

They wish to define Judaism not just for themselves but forall Jews. They wish to write liberalJews out of their world, and even out of the Jewish world. Some years ago one rabbi said, “Only one whobelieves in the God of Israel and in the Torah of Israel is entitled to becalled by the name Jew.” Anothertherefore declared, the world’s Jewish population is one million. There is no room for pluralism or debate intheir worldview. How are we to respondto these battles within our own tradition and people?

First of all I must say, I will not resort to violence evenif they do. I cannot argue or reasonwith these ultra-Orthodox Jews. With afundamentalist of any stripe reason openness to other opinions is not an option. The values of ahavat yisrael, love of theJewish people, and am echad, one people, do not extend to Jews who act orbelieve differently than they do.

I must therefore support efforts to bring to justice those whouse violence to force their views on others. In Israel I mustsupport efforts to change the political system so that ultra-Orthodox partiesno longer have undo influence over Israel’s political decisions. I must support efforts to bring the ultra-Orthodoxinto a modern, working society—no more exemptions from the army, no moreexemptions from work in favor of study. Stillthese are not my most important responses.

Most important I must remain secure in my identity. I must not look to the right or the left forapproval. No one can say how I am tolive my Jewish life. If I remain securein my Jewish identity then it does not matter what others say. I cannot build my Jewish life on the opinionsof others—only on my own.

My teacher Rabbi David Hartman’s new book is called The God who Hates Lies. In it he argues that both God and the selfhate lies. A Jewish identity is firstand foremost built on honesty. He writes:“The tradition itself, compared by the midrash to living waters, containspowerful and plentiful theological resources for responding to the shiftingcultural landscapes of our ever-emerging historical drama. For too long these waters have sat stagnant,awaiting a community of inheritors, a living tzibur, sufficiently confident,willing, and thirsty to tap into them.”

That is our only answer—to be both confident and thirsty. Confident in our identity. Thirsty for a better tomorrow. I must not rest until that thirst issated.

Bo

2012-01-26T13:28:00.001-08:00

The tenth and final plague is wrenching. Who among us could imagine a worsepunishment? The death of a child isevery parent’s worst nightmare. It wasPharaoh’s as well.

“In the middle of the night theLord struck down all the first-born in the land of Egypt, from the first-bornof Pharaoh who sat on the throne to the first-born of the captive who was inthe dungeon, and all the first-born of the cattle. And Pharaoh arose in the night, with all hiscourtiers and all the Egyptians—because there was a loud cry in Egypt; forthere was no house where there was not someone dead.” (Exodus 12:29-30)

Such is the suffering of myenemies. The years in which we now live have given rise to many would bePharaohs who seek to destroy all that we love. There are too many who declare themselves our enemies. Even though much has been accomplished toforestall their designs, we must remain forever vigilant. Yet I wonder, can we sympathize with the painof these Pharaohs while still remaining vigilant?

Let us be clear about the moral questions we face. It is legitimate to kill our enemies. Our nation’s leaders must continue to makeevery effort to protect us. The Talmudadmonishes us: “If someone comes to kill you, get up earlier to kill himfirst.” Yet there is a moraldistinction between the legitimacy of killing our enemies and celebrating thisfact. The celebration of the death ofany human being is an act to be shunned. Judaism teaches that all human beings are created in God’s image. No one is greater than another because all humanbeings are descended from the same parents, namely Adam and Eve. All life is precious. Every life is of equal value.

We should be filled withremorse that we are forced to kill others in order to protect ourselves. There is as well a distinction betweenkilling to protect our nation’s citizens and killing to mete out justice. In a democracy justice must remain theprovince of the courts not the military. We have every moral right to kill in order to protect. We do not have this same right to kill quicklyand decisively in order to punish. Thekilling, for example, of Osama bin Laden (y”s) was justified because it helpsto prevent his minions from attacking us again. We might never again be victimized by his genocidal aims.

It felt satisfying howeverbecause it appeared just punishment for his responsibility in the murder of ourfellow New Yorkers, the far too many innocent people who were so ruthlesslymurdered on 9-11. This emotional satisfactionconfounds our ethical judgments. Itcomes to masquerade as moral legitimacy. Make no mistake. Punishment canonly be justified when sanctioned by courts of justice, never by force ofarms.

I expect the military toprotect me. I expect judges and juriesto punish those who wrong me.

Thus Pharaoh’s pain andsuffering appears unjustified. Forgivemy chutzpah but the tenth plague seems unwarranted and overly harsh. How can any wrong justify the taking of the lifeof a child, even the child of one as evil as Pharaoh, even the child of theenemy who seeks my destruction?

These deaths satisfy only ouremotional need for punishment at best, and revenge at worst. The death of these countless Egyptians mightbe emotionally satisfying, but remain morally illegitimate. Our tradition of course insists that we notcelebrate their deaths. At our seders weremove a drop of wine to signify the lessening of our joy. We recognize the suffering even of ourtormentors. But can there ever be enoughdrops taken from our cups of wine to render this act legitimate?

Today we can have sympathy for the suffering of our enemieswhile not shying away from what must be done to protect ourselves. We mustteach over and over again that it is never a sign of weakness to have sympathyfor someone else’s pain.

We sympathize even with thepain of our enemies. Still we refuse toask the most important questions facing our age. Everyday we read in our papers that anotherwas killed in this never-ending war on terror, we must ask was this killingjustified? Did it live up to the moralmeasure of offering us more protection? Or was it merely done to satisfy our emotional need for immediatepunishment?

These are the questions oftoday. Dare we ask these questions ofour Torah as well?

Vaera Sermon

2012-01-26T13:18:00.001-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Vaera. In it Moses goes before Pharaoh to tell himto let the Israelites go free. It israrely noted that Moses is 80 years old when he first appears beforePharaoh. It is interesting that both Abrahamand Moses achieved greatness during their older, retirement years. Perhaps the Torah is suggesting that achievementsare not of youth and strength and vigor, but of age and wisdom. It is only after years of toil and learningthat one can really achieve something of historical weight.

We also read of the first six plagues—namely blood, frogs,lice, wild beasts, cattle plague and boils. This is preceded by what might be called dueling magic tricks. Moses and Aaron compete with the Egyptianmagicians, each performing magic tricks to impress Pharaoh. There is the Bible’s age old favorite of turninga staff into a snake. And this of courseraises the question of magic and miracles.

The first answer is that it is called a miracle if it is ourside. If it is the other guy then it ismagic, or even worse, sorcery. If to ourbenefit, then it is God’s miracle. If totheirs then there are only two possible choices. It is only an apparent benefit. It only looks like a good thing. Or itis not a miracle but magic. Thus miraclesare really only a matter of perspective. Perhaps if we look at something differently it will be seen as a miracle. This is one lesson we can draw from theportion. Look at the world differentlyand you will see many more miracles. With such eyes even every sunrise can be seen as a miracle.

Finally there is the question about staffs and snakes. How can a staff turn into a snake?

Do we believe in magic? Do we believe in superstitions?

The simple answer is Jews do believe in such things, butJudaism does not. There are so many bendlesand hamsas and they are indeed becoming even more popular. Before I share my views I must offer ameasure of full disclosure. Although Ioppose such superstitions as too easy of answers, and Judaism certainly opposessuch simple paths, I admit that before my children were born, I placed bendleseverywhere. They were on their cribs andeven sewn into some of their clothes and tied to their backpacks. Although I did not believe in suchsuperstitions I certainly was not going to test the theory on my kids!

I also still recall what Ari’s kindergarten teacher taughthim years ago. Here is that wholestory. I was on my way to Israel duringthe worst days of the intifada. I wasabout to leave on a solidarity mission. I ended up being there when the Moment Café was bombed and other suchhorrible acts occured. Ari was understandablynervous. His teacher comforted him withthe words your dad can’t be harmed if he is performing a mitzvah. And so his entire class collected money sothat I could serve as their shaliach in giving tzedakah. If they helped to make sure that I was busyperforming a mitzvah I would then be protected.

There is this custom of giving tzedakah to someone traveling,especially to Israel. The traveler is then offered extra protection. The theory is that they are in the midst ofperforming a mitzvah and so can’t be harmed. The rabbis counsel, “Tzedakah tatzil mimavet—tzedakah saves fromdeath.” Ari’s class would make sure thatthis theory was given life on my journey. I refrained from debating this theology at that moment. It gave Ari comfort and so I supportedit. Even if a superstition, it providedcomfort, and so why should I debate it?

I think this is why there are a great many superstitionssurrounding death and mourning. There isthe most common custom of covering mirrors. Most likely its origin is that people used to believe that spirits livedin mirrors. But really it just addscomfort to follow the tradition’s to do list. It is also explained that at such times one should not be thinking abouthow one looks. Still it is the comfortwe seek.

And that in the final analysis is my view about suchsuperstitions and trinkets. They cangive you an extra measure of comfort. Theycan grant you an extra dose of confidence. But they can’t be the only answer. There is no such thing as a protective bubble. There is no such thing as an easy, simpleanswer or path.

Tzedakah cannot save us from physical death. No one can be rescued from that. Tzedakah, and mitzvot, and good deeds, cansave us from a death of the spirit. Thatis always in our own hands. Theprotective bubble while tempting is not in our hands. We can only control how we live our lives.

Tzedakah tatzil mimavet—tzedakah saves us from death is nota theological statement. It is instead acommand. Work hard so that tzedakah cansave you from a spiritual death.

Vaera

2012-01-19T07:16:00.000-08:00

“Does kissing a stingray bring you good luck? Or breaking a mirror bring you bad?” a seventh grader recently asked. Thus began a conversation about superstitions. We talked about bendles and hamsas. We discussed the common middle school superstition of placing a spoon underneath your pillow and wearing your pajamas inside out to bring on a snow day.

I challenged our 7th graders to a friendly bet. Knowing the next day’s forecast, I suggested that our students place a spoon under their pillow to make it snow. If it did indeed snow I would donate one dollar to tzedakah for each student. If it did not snow they would each have to bring in a dollar to place in the tzedakah box. They refused the challenge saying, “There has to be snow in the forecast for it to work.” I wondered aloud, “Then why not just watch the Weather Channel?”

I challenged them further. “If you are wearing a red string on your wrist, is it then safe to run out into the street?” One student of course said, “It depends on which street we are talking about.” When I responded the LIE, all responded, “Of course not. That would be really dangerous?” So does a bendle provide a protective bubble around a person? Clearly not, our students agreed.

How then do such superstitions work? Do Jews believe in magic?

“Aaron cast down his rod in the presence of Pharaoh and his courtiers, and it turned into a serpent. …[A]nd the Egyptian magicians, in turn, did the same with their spells; each cast down his rod, and they turned into serpents. But Aaron’s rod swallowed their rods.” (Exodus 7:10-12) This week’s portion makes the point that our magic is superior to the Egyptian’s. Their magic is but sorcery. The Torah suggests that magic is what the other guy does. Miracles are what we do. Whether it is God’s hand or sorcery, miracles or magic, grace or superstition is perhaps only a matter of perspective.

Thus we believe in miracles but not superstitions. Miracles reach from heaven to earth. Superstitions suggest the reverse direction. While prayer might move upward, mastery of the divine does not. We cannot control the heavens by the wearing of a string or blue stoned jewelry. We do not invite bad fortune by breaking a mirror. We are not granted a year of good mazel by kissing a stingray.

I asked our seventh graders, “Will wearing a bendle guarantee you 100% on a test?” A wise seventh grader responded, “It might help give you some extra confidence.” There is great truth in this insight. If combined with study and learning, then a bracelet or necklace could indeed help. If it is a substitute for hard work then it is guaranteed to fail.

Superstitions play into the notion that no one chooses the more difficult path. Everyone likes the easy road. The current fascination with Kabbalah, and the trinkets its mystics hawk, is a symptom of our culture’s attraction with easy answers and simple paths. Judaism is anything but. It is instead serious. It is complicated. And yes it is also overwhelming and demanding.

Some of these same 7th graders heard these demands and helped to feed the hungry last month. I don’t know if they wore bendles or hamsas. I suspect some might have even kissed the same stingray that I kissed in Grand Cayman. I do know that their hands were busy for hours baking desserts for the hungry. I do know that their hands were overwhelmed serving the homeless and fulfilling Judaism’s demand that we better our world.

I also know that they did not tire. And that is Judaism—always the hard work, never the easy path, forever demanding, but also promising great rewards, found not in a year of guaranteed good luck, but in a moment of helping others.

Addendum: Here is the picture of your rabbi kissing a stingray. By the way the tattoo is a spray paint tattoo and a result of my very important job as Uncle Steve.

Shemot

2012-01-12T14:31:00.001-08:00

The moment arrives for all parents. No longer are they called by their names. They are known only in relation to their children. “Oh hi, you must be Shira’s father. Are you Ari’s dad?”

It was the same for Moses’ parents. “A certain man of the house of Levi went and married a Levite woman. The woman conceived and bore a son…” (Exodus 2:1-2) It is not until next week’s portion, after Moses speaks with God at the burning bush, that we learn the names of our greatest hero’s parents. “Amram took to wife his father’s sister Jochebed, and she bore him Aaron and Moses.” (Exodus 6:20)

Interestingly the revealing of this detailed information follows the revelation of God’s name. Moses of course learns God’s name at the burning bush. After this moment we then learn the names of Moses’ parents. There are however even more curious details about names in the opening of the Book of Exodus. Moses is not named by his parents, but instead by Pharaoh’s daughter when she rescues him from the Nile. “When the child grew up, she brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter, who made him her son. She named him Moses, explaining, ‘I drew him out of the water.’” (Exodus 2:10)

And finally, the name of this week’s portion is Shemot, Names. So what is in a name? And how do we earn the names by which we are called? The Israeli poet Zelda writes:
Each of us has a name
given by God
and given by our parents
Each of us has a name
given by our stature and our smile
and give by what we wear
Each of us has a name
given by the mountains
and given by our walls
Each of us has a name
given by the stars
and given by our neighbors
Each of us has a name
given by our sins
and given by our longing
Each of us has a name
given by our enemies
and given by our love
Each of us has a name
given by our celebrations
and given by our work
Each of us has a name
given by the seasons
and given by our blindness
Each of us has a name
given by the sea
and given by
our death.

What we are called is a mixture of many things. Our wrongs name us. Even the mountains name us. The clothes we wear, our work, our simchas, our loves all add to our name. Our names are not merely words given to us by our parents, or as in Moses’ case, his adopted mother. They represent an accumulation of all our experiences.

Rabbi Shimon concurs: “There are three crowns: the crown of Torah, the crown of Priesthood, and the crown of Royalty. The crown of a good name surpasses them all.” (Pirke Avot 4:17) A good name is even better than mastering Torah!

And how is a good name achieved? There is only one way. It is through righteous action. It is through performing good deeds. A good name must be unqualified. It should never be “He achieved great things, but… She had many successes, but remember that one time…”

Still my favorite names are those I earn through my children. They represent any parents’ greatest successes. I am happy to be known only as Shira and Ari’s father. And I imagine Moses’ parents felt the same. This is why their names were not publicized until after Moses achieved some measure of greatness and after he discovered God at the burning bush.

For parents their greatest recognition comes through their children! It is because in these names my recognition depends not on my own good deeds but instead upon my children’s.

Vayechi Sermon

2012-01-09T13:38:00.001-08:00

This week we read the final Torah portion of Genesis. In it both Jacob and Joseph die. Joseph dies at the portion’s conclusion. Interestingly he is not buried in the land of Israeluntil the people are freed from Egyptover 400 years later after their slavery. Jacob however is taken to the land immediately after his death. The family travels there to bury him in Hebron’s Cave of Machpaleh.

Prior to this Jacob gathers his children together for afinal blessing. His words read more likeprophecy than blessing. Let’s look at afew of the words he offers to his children.

To his firstborn Reuben he says,

Reuben, you are my first born,

My might and first fruit of my vigor,

Exceeding in rank

And exceeding in honor.

Unstable as water, you shall excel no longer…

And,

Simeon and Levi are a pair;

Their weapons are tools of lawlessness.

Let not my person be included in their council,

Let not my being counted in their assembly.

For when angry they slay men,

And when pleased they maim oxen….

At first glance we must admit that Jacob does not offer suchkinds words to his sons. Talk about afather who had unreasonable expectations of his children! Or perhaps he was just being honest with hischildren about their faults. Both ofthese blessings are actually connected to the sons’ earlier failures. Simeon and Levi of course attacked Shechemafter Dinah was raped. They took the lawinto their own hands.

And to the fourth son, Judah, from whom we trace our lineagebecause it is from the tribe of Judahthat we derive the term Jew, Jacob says these words:

You, O Judah, your brothers shall praise:

Your hand shall be on the nape of your foes;

Your father’s sons shall bow low to you…

The scepter shall not depart from Judah,

Nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet;

So that tribute shall come to him

And the homage of peoples be his.

Biblical scholars would suggest that these words wereauthored after the success or failures of the particular tribes could be seen. They were not spoken by Jacob, but writtenlater as his words. But our question isnot about the historical accuracy of the vision. It is instead about the insights they offerinto personality traits.

The Torah offers strong evidence that the descendants ofLevi for example are given to anger. Moses,the most famous of Levites, is the best example. He is of course punished for hitting the rockin anger. He is not allowed to enter thePromised Land because of this. Is hisexample the realization of Jacob’s words to Levi?

Our question is thus about character. How much of our nature is pre-wired? What of our character is genetics? We have come to learn a great deal aboutgenetics. We know that many diseaseshave genetic markers. Even eating habitsand metabolism have strong genetic components. (Read last week’s New York Times magazine for more about this discussionabout obesity and genetics.)

Are traits such as anger also pre-wired? I am sure many parents have heard statementscome from their mouths that they promised themselves as children they wouldnever say as parents. Then when theybecome parents they hear the words of their mother or father coming out oftheir mouths. Is this a matter ofwiring? Or is it instead a matter of wecan only learn how to be parents from our own parents?

Could it be true that so much of our personalities arepre-wired? The Torah would seem tosuggest yes. The Levites are given togreat anger. Their fate is written inthis week’s portion. Every Levite whofollows becomes living proof of Jacob’s prophecy.

One of my favorite novels, A.B. Yehoshua’s Mr Mani deals with this theme. Despite everyone’s best efforts in this novelwhat happens to them appears pre-ordained. The Israeli author is asking, can we really control our own destiny, canwe really write a new history for the Jewish people?

In this view our lives become a futile attempt to fightagainst our destinies. I however refuseto believe this. And despite the Torah’sstories and Jacob’s prophecy, I would suggest that Judaism does not believethis as well. We can indeed write ourown destiny. Even with the genetic cardsstacked against us, even if we are wired to eating too much—or given too muchanger—we can escape what is written for us, and write something different forourselves.

This is the essence of what we are supposed to be doing onthe High Holidays. We don’t just pray andfast on those days. We are supposed todo much more. We are supposed to try tochange ourselves, to improve ourselves, to write a new chapter for ourselves ina new year.

The temptation is to give in to our genes. As we discover more and more about ourwiring, this temptation will grow even stronger. I can’t lose weight, we might say, it is inmy genes. My anger is not my fault; itis instead my father’s. I can’t controlmyself, it is my addiction, it is written in my wiring. We must fight this temptation. We must summonthe willpower to write our own stories, rather than follow the script writtenby our ancestors, or that written by our biology.

There is a hidden message as well, concealed in this week’s Torahportion. We read that Jacob also blesseshis grandchildren, Ephraim and Manasseh. Jacob gives the younger of the two, Ephraim, the more favored blessing. Jacob places his right hand, in ancient timesthe hand of power, on the youngest grandson. This of course is contrary to the laws of inheritance. It was always the oldest we received thegreater blessing. Joseph objects to hisfather’s choice, but Jacob insists that it is correct. It is not because he is blind, as his sonsuggests. He in fact sees very clearly. The younger should receive greater blessingsthan the older. Thus the expected storyis rewritten by Jacob’s hands.

Most interesting, it is this blessing that we emulate when blessingour sons on Shabbat evening. As we placeour hands on their heads, we say, “May God make you like Ephraim and Manasseh.” In this blessing we even preserve theinverted order. In each successivegeneration we affirm that the story is not always written from birth. It is not wired by birth order, or evengenetics. It can be rewritten by our ownhands. That is what we say each andevery time we place our hands on our children’s heads. We say to our children, “You can write adifferent story for yourselves!”

Vayechi

2012-01-06T10:08:00.001-08:00

There is a flash of anger that runs through Israel’s priestly class. It begins with Jacob’s children and courses through the tribe of Levi.

In this week’s portion, Jacob gathers his children and grandchildren to his deathbed to offer final blessings. “Simeon and Levi are a pair; Their weapons are tools of lawlessness. Let not my person be included in their council, Let not my being be counted in their assembly. For when angry they slay men, And when pleased they maim oxen. (Genesis 49:5-6)

Such are the words Jacob offers to his sons Simeon and Levi. And it is the descendants of Levi who become the Levites and the priestly custodians of the ritual cult. Weeks ago we read of Simeon and Levi’s rage when they killed Shechem and his followers. (Genesis 34) The brothers were enraged that Shechem had raped their sister Dinah. Jacob however continues to worry that their anger will prove to be their undoing and unravel his legacy.

In fact anger can be our undoing.

Even Moses stands guilty of this sin. Because of his anger he dies with his dreams partly unfulfilled. He is not allowed to venture into the Promised Land because he lashed out at the people he leads. When the Israelites clamored for water he strikes a rock and screams at them. (Numbers 20)

Moses is as well from the tribe of Levi. Is anger his family’s destiny?

We also read of Phinehas who is so angered by his countrymen that when they begin to follow the practices of the Midianites by offering their sacrifices and “whoring after the Midianite women” that he, like his predecessors before him, kills an Israelite man and a Midianitie woman while they are lying in bed. (Numbers 25) Is anger and impassioned vengeance the tribe of Levi’s M.O? Israel’s priestly class appears framed by anger.

Then again perhaps these stories are meant as warnings. Perhaps the Torah connects these episodes by a family lineage so as to fulfill the warnings of Jacob. The Torah is a balm against the destiny of anger. Examine its conclusion. Its greatest hero dies at the edge of his dream, on the steppes of Mount Nebo, on the boundaries of the land of Israel. He does not touch his life long quest because of anger. Check your anger if you want to fulfill your dreams, the Torah suggests.

Still I wonder how much of our destinies are shaped by our parents, grandparents and great-grandparents? How much of Moses and Phinehas are shaped by Simeon and Levi? Is anger a matter of genetics? Can we overcome our destiny? There are times when each of us sees our parents and grandparents in our own actions. I recognize my father’s rage in my own. I see my grandfather in my angered silence.

Is our destiny written by our parents and grandparents? Do Simeon and Levi forever shape their family’s destiny? Do Jacob’s words seal the future of Israel’s priestly class? The great Israeli author, A.B. Yehoshua suggests in his novel, Mr. Mani, that we cannot escape what is written for us. Our lives are a struggle against what is already codified by our ancestors. We try in vain to wrest new paths against our destinies.

I however continue to believe otherwise. I see the Torah’s conclusion and Jacob’s words as a warning against the dangers of anger. It can be our undoing. The priestly class can become unraveled. A flash of anger can destroy dreams. Even when anger is justified, it never serves the future. “Cursed be their anger so fierce, And their wrath so relentless. I will divide them in Jacob, Scatter them in Israel.” (Genesis 49:7)

Vayigash

2011-12-29T09:28:00.001-08:00

The known remaining son of Jacob and Rachel, Benjamin, is now threatened with imprisonment by Joseph who is second only to Egypt’s Pharaoh. Benjamin has of course been framed by Joseph and is accused of stealing from the palace. Judah approaches Joseph to plead for Benjamin’s life. He cries, “Therefore, please let your servant remain as a slave to my lord instead of the boy, and let the boy go back with his brothers. For how can I go back to my father unless the boy is with me? Let me not be witness to the woe that would overtake my father!” (Genesis 44:33-34)

Joseph is again unable to control his emotions. He instructs his servants to leave him alone with his brothers. He begins sobbing so loudly that even those standing outside of the room could hear his cries. He declares, “I am Joseph! Is my father still well?” His brothers are dumfounded. Joseph draws near and says, “’I am your brother Joseph, he whom you sold into Egypt. Now, do not be distressed or reproach yourselves because you sold me hither; it was to save life that God sent me ahead of you….’ With that he embraced his brother Benjamin around the neck and wept, and Benjamin wept on his neck. He kissed all his brothers and wept upon them; only then were his brothers able to talk to him.” (Genesis 45:1-14)

Joseph then sent for his aged father Jacob. Pharaoh gives them horses and carts to transport the family to Egypt and the entire family makes a home in Egypt. Pharaoh assigns to them a portion of territory. Thus did the children of Israel come to live in Egypt. For generations Jacob’s descendants live comfortably among the Egyptians.

I wonder what made Joseph change course. Why did he finally break down and cry? Why did he now reveal himself to his brothers? Was he as the rabbis suggest testing his brothers to see if they had changed? Was he therefore waiting for Judah to stand up and protect his younger brother Benjamin? The measure of true repentance is of course to be faced with the exact same temptation but to choose another course. Here Judah chooses, rather than as he did before to throw his brother in a pit, to defend him and offer himself in his stead. Others suggest that it was Judah’s repetition of the pain that would be caused to Jacob that finally found its way into Joseph’s heart. In fact Judah repeats this mantra about Jacob 14 times in his plea to Joseph.

Was Joseph seeking revenge for the years of pain and tribulation his brothers caused him? Is this why he developed this elaborate plot to frame Benjamin and punish his brothers. Perhaps his machinations started out that way, but in the opening of this portion they clearly change course. The opening word of the portion offers a clue as to what might have caused this change of heart. Vayigash means to draw near. It is a refrain that is repeated throughout this exchange. Judah draws near. Joseph in turn draws close. It is the same root that the Torah uses when detailing how to make war against a city. When you draw near to attack a city… Judah was prepared to fight for his brother Benjamin. Joseph saw this in his eyes. Then again standing so close to each other, staring into each other’s eyes, Egyptian and Jew are not seen but instead brothers. And Joseph cried, “I am your brother Joseph!” Perhaps this is what we should always see when looking into the eyes of another person.

A midrash suggests the following: “’Like deep water is counsel in the heart of man, but a man of understanding will draw it out.’ (Proverbs 20:5) The image is of a deep well, whose waters are cold and clear, but no one is able to reach it to drink from it. Then a person comes and ties rope to rope, and cord to cord, and string to string, and draws forth the water and drinks from it, and then everyone comes and draws forth and drinks. Thus did Judah refuse to budge and continued to press Joseph, answering him word for word, until he stood right at Joseph’s heart.” In this way brothers were reunited, each forgiving the other, each embracing the other.

In this way must we remind each other that we all are brothers. It is only a matter of drawing near.

Miketz

2011-12-22T10:28:00.001-08:00

Two years have passed since the chief cupbearer was freed from jail. Joseph however still remains in captivity. Pharaoh is now plagued by disturbing dreams. No one is able to interpret them, or perhaps dare to disclose their meaning. It is then that the cupbearer remembers Joseph and his remarkable abilities.

He is brought before Pharaoh and immediately interprets the meaning of these dreams. Joseph foretells that Egypt will be blessed with seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine. The country must prepare for the famine by saving during the first seven years. Pharaoh charges Joseph with this task and gives him the top administrative job in all of Egypt.

After these seven years of bounty, famine descends on Egypt and the whole world. Many are forced to come to Egypt, and therefore Joseph, to secure food. Jacob sends his sons, except the youngest Benjamin, to Egypt to procure food. They appear before Joseph who immediately recognizes them, but they do not recognize him for he dresses and acts like an Egyptian. He speaks harshly to them and accuses them of beings spies. He throws them in jail. On the third day he lets them out and sends them on their way with food for their families. One brother, Simeon, is taken and held in an Egyptian jail as ransom. Joseph threatens them, instructing them that they must not return without Benjamin, the only other son of Rachel and Jacob.

The brothers say to each other, “’Alas, we are being punished on account of our brother, because we looked on at his anguish, yet paid no heed as he pleaded with us. That is why this distress has come upon us.’ Then Reuben spoke up and said to them, ‘Did I not tell you, “Do no wrong to the boy?” But you paid no heed. Now comes the reckoning for his blood.’” (Genesis 42:21-22) They of course did not realize that Joseph understood their words. He turns away and weeps.

On their journey home they discover that their money has been returned to them, hidden in their bags of food. When they return home they report everything to their father Jacob. He refuses to send them back to Egypt with his beloved son, Benjamin. The famine soon grows worse and Jacob is left with no choice. Judah pledges that he will take personal responsibility for Benjamin. They set out for Egypt with double the money and Benjamin.

When they arrive and Joseph discovers that they have brought Benjamin with them he frees Simeon. Joseph then prepares a feast for his brothers. They apologize for not making proper payment on their first visit. Somehow the money was returned in their bags, they report. Joseph reassures them that he received proper payment and suggests that God must have put the money in their bags.

He then sees Benjamin for the first time and is overcome with emotion and runs out of the room. He arranges the brothers at the table in order from oldest to youngest. They wonder aloud if Joseph is a magician. They cannot imagine how he could know their birth order. Benjamin is presented with a double portion of food.

They are sent on their way with plenty of food. But a goblet is secretly placed in Benjamin’s bag. Joseph instructs his servants to go after his brothers and accuse them of stealing. When they overtake them, it is soon discovered that Benjamin’s bag has the missing goblet. They are brought back to Egypt to stand before Joseph.

The story pauses until next week.

It is a remarkable tale. Throughout the story Joseph struggles with his attachments. On several occasions the pull of his family is too strong. He is unable to control his emotions and retreats to weep in private. We cry that he is not yet able to embrace his brothers.

Rabbi Larry Kushner observes that throughout this story, our hero Joseph often changes clothes. In the opening his father places the coat of many colors on him and then his brothers tear it from him. There is as well the garment torn from him by Potiphar’s wife. And finally in the opening of this week’s portion the following: “And he shaved himself and changed his garment…and Pharaoh dressed him in linen garments.” (Genesis 41:14, 42)

By the time his brothers come before him, Joseph looks like an Egyptian. He is unrecognizable to them. His clothes, and apparently his mannerisms and language, allow him to hide from them despite the fact that he stands before them. Now it is left to him alone to tear these clothes. But he is not yet able to tear the trappings of his Egyptian identity and reveal himself to his brothers.

I wonder, “What do our clothes say of us?” What do they hide? What do they reveal? Soon Joseph will remove his mask and embrace his brothers in forgiveness. He discovers that he will always be more a brother, and a member of the family of Israel, than an Egyptian. His inner self becomes one with his outer identity. I wonder as well, “Are we the same on the outside as we are on the inside?” Like Joseph, what pain is caused by hiding out true selves from others?

I would like to believe that it is always more a matter of the acts we perform than the clothes we wear. I would like to believe that we can always be same on the outside as we are on the inside. I pledge never to allow my Jewish values to remain hidden. Let them be revealed to all.

As we continue to celebrate Hanukkah we recall its message of asserting our Jewish identities in a world that is not. We ask, “What Jewish values will we wear as our garments?"

Hanukkah

2011-12-20T12:44:00.000-08:00

There is a closely guarded secret about Hanukkah that is rarely discussed or even revealed. It is this. Within a generation the heroes of Hanukkah, the Maccabees, became so consumed with their successes and their apparent ability to bring about miracles that they persecuted those who disagreed with them, even other Jews. The opening battle hints at this dark truth. The Maccabees first killed another Jew.

"A Jew came forward in the sight of all to offer a sacrifice upon the altar in Modein, according to the king’s command. When Mattathias saw it, he burned with zeal and his heart was stirred. He gave vent to righteous anger; he ran and killed him upon the altar. At the same time he ran and killed the king’s officer who was forcing them to sacrifice, and he tore down the altar." (I Maccabees 2:23-25)

This is similar to our struggle today. There are those who believe that faith means they are right and all others are wrong. There are those who always burn with righteous anger and would kill those who disagree with them. There are those who can only be right if all others are wrong. And then there are those who believe that faith is meant to inspire, to call us to do better, to bring a measure of healing rather than anger to our world. The list of those who see faith as a fire that must consume all non-believers is far too long. Let us resolve on this Hanukkah to be among those who instead use faith to warm those around us.

Michael Fagenblat, a contemporary philosopher, comments, “Living with miracles is risky business. After all, a candle can start a raging fire. As much as we are asked to see the miracle of Hanukkah, we must therefore also find the right place for it in our lives.”

It is not that I don’t believe in miracles. I certainly hope and pray for them, most especially for those who are facing life threatening illnesses. Unlike Hanukkah’s heroes I believe miracles come to heal individuals rather than to thwart history. The Maccabees believed that God’s hand only favored them and protected their like-minded followers. The Rabbis of old therefore refashioned their miracle from one about a military victory into one about the oil lasting for eight days. They recognized the danger of seeing things as the Maccabees did, of believing that only they were right and all others wrong. The rabbis by contrast embraced a plurality of ideas and responses to historical crisis.

What does Hanukkah mean to me? It is about being proud to be Jewish in a world that is not. It is about having the courage to bring Jewish values to those around us. By doing so we might very well rewrite history.

The miracles of old continue to inspire me and warm my faith. I must however be on guard that they never become a consuming fire. I rely on the glow of the Hanukkah miracle.

My friends and colleagues at CLAL (The National Jewish Center for Learning and Leadership) suggest the following ritual.

This Hanukkah especially, with many questions about the future of America, Israel and the Jewish people looming large for so many people, we need the vision that comes from looking at things in the light of our Hanukkah candles. We need to see possibility where most see none, envision options while most bemoan their absence.

Here’s how: Candlelight softens hard edges, it warms and invites imagination. People come together and often, in a moment of quiet, see the very best in themselves and each other when gathered around an open flame.

This year turn off the lights in the room and allow yourself to see by Hanukkah light, if only for a few minutes.

By the glow of the candles, think about a seemingly insurmountable challenge in your life, in the life of the Jewish people, or in the life of our nation. Then allow yourself to imagine a response and how you might contribute to it. That’s what the Maccabees did when they dared to make light when others deemed it impossible, and we can do the same. That what it means to see things in Hanukkah light.

Allow the Hanukkah candles to warm your faith and those around you. Allow these candles to inspire your beliefs and give you the courage to bring Jewish values to the world.

Chag Urim Samayach!—Happy Hanukkah!

Tebowing for Hanukkah

2011-12-17T15:13:00.000-08:00

What follows is my recent sermon about the upcoming holiday of Hanukkah, delivered on Shabbat Vayeshev, December 16th.

Nes Gadol Haya Po. Agreat miracle happened here. This iswhat is written on dreidles in the land of Israel. Millennia ago the small, outnumbered Jewisharmy led by the Maccabees defeated the Syrian-Greeks and recaptured the Templein Jerusalem and of course rededicated it to Jewish worship. According to the rabbis the holy oilnecessary for this ceremony lasted eight days rather than the expectedone. The miracle of oil! But the victory of the small army over thelarger, better equipped and supplied, army was no less a miracle.

I have been thinking about this story as we approachHanukkah, the holiday which begins on Tuesday evening. I have been thinking especially about miracles. What is that we really believe? A lot has recently been written about thisquestion. In fact more questions aboutfaith and belief have appeared in the sports sections than the paper’s othersections. These articles are by andlarge about Tim Tebow, about his beliefs and his public prayers and of coursethe Bronco’s miraculous wins.

I don’t know how many people watched Sunday night’s game ofthe Broncos vs. the Bears. It was quitethe miracle. The Broncos were down by ten, in fact 10-0, until about fourminutes left in the game. Then Tebow ledhis team to a touchdown. With no timeouts remaining and no way to stop the clock the Bears seemed sure to be able torun out the clock. But then a veteranrunning back, Marion Barber, ran out of bounds and stopped the clock giving theBroncos time for a few plays. TheBroncos now had a little less than a minute to score. With three seconds remaining their kickerkicked a 59 yard field goal to tie the game. Chicago won the toss to gain first possession in overtime and again wasnearly in field goal range to win the game when Marion Barber made anothermistake and fumbled the ball. Tebow ledhis team to field goal range and the Broncos won 13-10 in overtime. A great miracle happened here! By the time overtime began I gave up on my manyChicago friends and started praying along with Tebow for his Broncos towin. After all who prays for aloss?

Prior to Tebow’s starting as quarterback, the Broncos were1-4. Now with him at the held they are 7-1and leading their division for a playoff spot. Such appears the power of faith and the power of prayer. But what is Tebow is really praying for? Does he pray, “God let my team defeat ouropponents and win this game.” Such wouldseem an improper prayer. Judaism wouldcounsel us that we should only ask God for that which benefits all. One cannot pray for one’s own success if itcomes at the expense of another. Infootball Tebow and his Broncos’ success comes at the expense of the otherteam. Marion Barber might especiallyneed our prayers for strength and courage far more than Tebow does. May Marion Barber rise above his mistakes andbecome an even greater human being. Tobe honest our prayers should never be about being a great football player, orbasketball player or baseball player or any player for that matter. Instead they should be about being a betterperson. Yet it is human nature to prayfor the winning side. It is certainly human nature to pray for what might becalled, my side.

I remember some of the prayers I have uttered when watchingthe Jets. There have been many timesover the years as I watch the Jets game and especially in those final minutesfind myself praying as the other team lines up for a field goal or last attemptat the end zone, “Miss it. Miss it. Miss it. Please. Please. Please.” Of course sometimes my prayers appear to be answered and other timesnot. It occurs to me that perhaps we arethe most religious when rooting for our side. Then again, how can it be a good prayer if mysuccess, or my team’s success, depends on someone else’s failure?

To be fair Tebow states that he is not praying for a win. He also has repeatedly stated that footballis only a game and that God does not care who wins. His example continues to remind us that faithand prayer are meant to be inspiring and can also apparently inspire others togreatness. For this teaching we owe hima debt of gratitude. In a world wherethere are far too many examples of the abuses of religion we are grateful forhis reminder that faith can inspire and help us become better.

We should also be thankful to him for another reminder. As we approach the holiday of Hanukkah thatwas all about being able to be Jewish in the public square, Tebow reminds usthat it is good to pray in public. Somemight be uncomfortable with his public displays of overt devotion, of Tebowingas it is called, but Hanukkah was about the struggle to proudly declare I amJewish. The Hanukkah menorah is afterall supposed to be displayed so that others can see it, so that the miracle ispublicized. Hanukkah is not supposed tobe celebrated behind closed curtains.

Faith is meant as inspiration. It is meant for the world to see. For Tim Tebow’s reminder about this I commendhim. The fact that he appears to pray afterhis successes and others’ failures I fault him. I am waiting for what might be his greatest example, to see his publicdevotion, embracing the other team in prayer, after his team suffers a stingingdefeat. Nonetheless he has taught usthat faith is meant as a goad for us to do better, to improve our world, tobetter ourselves.

Faith does not mean waiting around for miracles. We must bring them about. We must not wait for God to performmiracles. Miracles are first andforemost in our hands. This is whatTebow teaches us. He is not just praying. He takes to the field. He appears at his best when he faces the mostchallenges. In the fourth quarter whenmost others might give up, he becomes better and appears to bring aboutmiracles. Others seem to resort only totheir prayers.

Like any good Jewish book our prayerbooks recounts manymiracles. These books are not meant tosit on your shelves or to be read quietly in your room. You can’t just wait for a Mi Chamocha momentto happen to you. Don’t wait to sing this song of redemption. You are supposedto carry your prayerbooks with you. Thenwhenever you need a little extra inspiration you can find it there in itspages. If you just sit in a room andpray for God to rescue you then you will find far fewer miracles in your lives.This is also what Hanukkah reminds us. TheMaccabees led the charge. They did nothide in caves waiting for God to fix their world. They did not sit quietly pouring over thewords of their prayers. They made the miracle.

On Hanukkah we recite the blessing, “Blessed are You Adonaiour God, Ruler of the universe, who performed miracles for our ancestors inthose days.” The Hasidic rebbe, RabbiLevi Yitzhak of Berdichev asked why we say this blessing for the Hanukkahmiracles and not for the greatest miracle of all, that of Passover. Being a rabbi he answers his ownquestion. He says that it is because theHanukkah miracle was dependent on our actions. It was not dependent on God alone. On Passover God alone split the sea and battled the Egyptians in thatdefining Mi Chamocha moment. On Hanukkahwe brought the miracle; it was dependent upon our own success. We did not wait for miracles to be done forus. We brought them to the world. God inspired us. We did the work.

This is the most important lesson of Hanukkah. We look to past events for inspiration. But when we start to believe that miraclesare happening here and now it gets dangerous. It is dangerous because then we stop doing the hard work of getting intothe game ourselves. Then we try to letGod do all of the heavy lifting for us and pretend there is no weight on ourown shoulders. God does provide muchinspiration. But the lifting has to bedone by ourselves.

In the end that is why the better dreidle is our dreidlerather than Israel’s. On our dreidles it says, “A great miracle happenedthere.” It keeps the miracle at arm’s length. It keeps miracles as sources of inspirationrather than a crutch. It reminds us thatwe have to do the hard stuff ourselves. God will inspire us. But ourhands make the miracles.

Thus, if you want miracles to happen here you only have onechoice. Take to the field yourself!

Vayeshev

2011-12-15T09:49:00.000-08:00

A theme throughout the Hebrew Bible is the seductiveness of the outside, foreign world. There are many laws forbidding what are deemed "their" idolatrous practices. The sexual depravity of foreigners is a pervasive thread throughout Jewish literature. Last week’s tragic story of the rape of Dinah is an illustration of this theme. This week we read another variant. It is found within the Joseph saga, a story that occupies the majority of the next four Torah portions.

Here is the first part of that story and especially the salacious details touching on this theme. Joseph is the favored son of Jacob. He is born to Jacob’s beloved wife, Rachel and is treated like royalty by his father. He is given an ornamented tunic. Meanwhile his brothers are burdened with keeping up the family business and tending to their vast holdings of livestock. In addition Joseph is a dreamer. Despite his youth, he often dreams of how one day he will become the leader of the family. Moreover he tells his brothers of these visions. His brothers grow increasingly agitated and angered by his bravado.

One day while the brothers are pasturing the flock Joseph wanders into the fields to visit with them. They say to each other, “Here comes that dreamer! Come now, let us kill him and throw him into one of the pits; and we can say, ‘A savage beast devoured him.’ We shall then see what comes of his dreams!” (Genesis 37:18-20) In the end they decide to sell him into slavery rather than kill him. They report to their father Jacob that wild beasts killed him.

Joseph now finds himself in Egypt where he impresses Potiphar who eventually places him in charge of running his large household. Potiphar’s wife (who the Torah does not name) is attracted to Joseph and tries to seduce him. Joseph refuses her entreaties. Joseph proclaims, “How then could I do this most wicked thing, and sin before God?” (Genesis 39:9). On one such occasion she grabs him by his clothes but he manages to run away, leaving her holding his garment. The Torah also does not specify how much of his garment remains in her hands. At the very least it is an identifying piece, for she now runs to her husband, holding Joseph’s clothes in her hands, and accuses him of trying to sleep with her. Potiphar becomes enraged and throws Joseph into jail.

In jail he eventually has the opportunity to prove himself, this time by interpreting dreams. He accurately interprets the chief cupbearer and baker’s dreams. When the cupbearer is released from jail he will have the opportunity to remember Joseph’s skills. This week’s portion however concludes on a note of forgetfulness. The cupbearer, now a free man, forgets Joseph and he remains in jail. The reader is left in suspense. What will happen to Joseph? Will he be vindicated for favoring God’s laws over those of his Egyptian masters? Will he be rewarded for living by his Jewish ideals and refusing the seductions of a foreigner?

Joseph is the first diaspora Jew. He must live a Jewish life outside of his ancestral home. He must live among the temptations of Egyptian culture. Potiphar’s unnamed wife is symbolic of the foreign culture in which Joseph now lives. Will Joseph be seduced by Egypt, by the other? Can he indeed live a Jewish life in a foreign land? Joseph’s struggle is our own. The tension between living a Jewish life while being open to American culture is the same for us as it was for Joseph.

This time of year we are reminded even more keenly that we live in a predominately Christian culture. Only this morning I was again awakened by the radio station playing Christmas songs. Throughout the town of Huntington stores are decorated with red and green holiday ornaments. There are a few Hanukkah decorations, but they are trivial by comparison. It is not that I mind these cheerful Christmas songs and festive decorations. I especially like the many homes on our block decorated with Christmas lights. These help to banish the darkness of December’s early sunsets. Yet these lights and decorations come at a cost. They remind me that this country is not entirely my own. No presidential Hanukkah dinner or the kashering of the White House kitchen can change this fact. And so like Joseph I have learned to speak the language of Egypt.

Recently the State of Israel ran ads encouraging Israeli expats to return home. The ads were heavy handed in their critique of diaspora life. In one ad a young Jewish girl is video chatting with her Israeli grandparents. “Shalom, Sabba v’Savta,” she sings. A Hanukkah menorah is displayed behind them. They exchange pleasantries in simple Hebrew and then ask her, “What holiday is it?” She exclaims excitedly, “Christmas.” The implication of the ads is clear. There is only one place to lead a full Jewish life and that is in Israel. By the way, the ads have since been removed from YouTube given the outcry from American Jewish leaders.

I admit there are times when I miss the Jewish rhythms of Israeli life. I miss the Friday evening greetings of “Shabbat Shalom” and Saturday evening’s “Shavuah Tov.” One hears these on the radio and TV. One hears them from strangers on the streets. I miss the Hanukkah treats of sufganiyot, jelly donuts, found in nearly every store. I miss the millions of Hanukkah menorahs displayed in windows. And I miss the State’s official Hanukkah celebrations. In Israel I am one with the predominant culture.

But no choice is perfect. No Jewish life is ever complete. Every place is a compromise. In Israel too there are seductions. In Israel it is instead the seductions of power. There is the argument that Israel lives in a dangerous neighborhood and must therefore react with brute force against every one of its enemies. This too is a foreign seduction. Despite the fact that it pains me to admit it, Tom Friedman is correct. There are strong anti-democratic forces presently at work in the State of Israel. Prime Minister Netanyahu has only belatedly recognized this after yesterday’s riot of radical settlers at an army base and the recent attacks by Jewish extremists of mosques.

Let us be honest. Democracy is not part of the Jewish tradition. King David was no believer in this Greek ideal. Democracy is a foreign idea. Still it is one that I love nonetheless. It is an ideal that is good for the Jewish nation. It is one of Israel’s founding pillars. The vision of the modern State of Israel is that it would be both Jewish and democratic. That is its struggle.

In the end one can live in a ghetto of one’s own making, cut off from all foreign ideas and cultural influences, or one can live surrounded by beliefs not entirely one’s own and ideals new to Jewish history. The latter is my choice. It is also Israel’s choice. And it is finally the choice our hero Joseph models after his many years of struggle.

Vayishlach Sermon

2011-12-12T06:33:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion tells many stories about our hero Jacob and his large family. In one particular story we discover the origin of our name, Yisrael.

Jacob now married with two wives, two maidservants, eleven children, many slaves and an abundance of livestock, sets out to return to his native land. At the same place where he dreamed of a ladder reaching to heaven, he sends his family across the river and again spends the night alone. Jacob is understandably nervous about the impending reunion with his brother Esau who twenty years earlier vowed to kill him for stealing the birthright. It is interesting to note that the biblical story builds on the common theme of confronting spirits at a river crossing. Here in the Bible the literary theme is transformed and given new meaning. The river marks the frontier of the future land of Israel.

That night his experience is neither a dream nor an earthly reality. He wrestles with a being that is described as divine and human. Unable to free himself from Jacob’s grasp the being offers Jacob a blessing in exchange for his release. This being declares, “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with beings divine and human and have prevailed.” (Genesis 32:29) He wrenches Jacob’s hip causing him to limp. (By the way this is why filet mignon is not kosher. According to tradition this cut is not eaten in remembrance of Jacob’s pain.)

Jacob’s new name becomes the name of the Jewish people. Yisrael means to wrestle with God. What a remarkable statement about our people and our tradition! We can question God. We can wrestle with God. In fact we should question God. We should wrestle with God. While most people understand that questioning is part and parcel to being Jewish, few appreciate that such questioning extends towards heaven. The rabbis called this notion, chutzpah klappei shamayim, chutzpah towards heaven. It is a beautiful and telling concept.

Long ago the rabbis codified action over belief, the duties of the hands over the feelings of the heart. We have books and books detailing exactly which cuts of beef are fit and unfit, when and when not to recite the Shema, even how much we should give to tzedakah. We do not have such books telling us exactly what we must believe. We have many discussions and debates about these questions, but no creeds. We have codes of action not creeds of belief.

It is this embrace of many different theologies that makes Judaism so extraordinary. I don’t have to have it all figured out. I can still question. I can still struggle. I can still wonder. I can still ask: Why does God not heal every person who is sick and infirm? Why is there pain and suffering in God’s world?

Throughout the years I have been drawn to many different theologians. Martin Buber speaks of finding God in the I-Thou relationship. When we really treat others in a mutual relationship, as a Thou, rather than an It in which we only see what we might gain from the relationship, then we can find a glimmer of God. There is Mordecai Kaplan, the founder of Reconstructionism, who teaches that the community is central. It is not God who commands from on high but rather the Jewish people and their continuation that commands us. Lately I find myself increasingly pulled toward Abraham Joshua Heschel, who reminds us that we find God in moments of wonder and awe. His remarkable book God in Search of Man is a reminder that it is God who is searching for us. God is searching for us to do good. Instead we sit around doing nothing to better our world, waiting for God to fix things for us. It is God in Heschel’s theology who is praying for human beings to repair the world.

Heschel writes: “Faith comes out of awe, out of an awareness that we are exposed to God’s presence, out of anxiety to answer the challenge of God, out of an awareness of our being called upon. Religion consists of God’s question and man’s answer. The way to faith is the way of faith. The way to God is a way of God. Unless God asks the question, all our inquiries are in vain.” Biblical scholars teach us that the name Yisrael can also mean “He who is upright with God.” For Heschel this understanding captures his theology.

Regardless of which theology you found more attractive they are all part and parcel of the modern Jewish landscape. The most important task is to never give up the quest, to always question, to always struggle and wrestle.

This week’s Torah portion describes our hero’s journey, from cheating and brokenness to wholeness and peace. The Hasidic master, Sefat Emet, points out that Jacob is not called whole (shalem) until after he limps. He limps only after wrestling with God.

We learn that the greatest name we can call ourselves is that which emerges from struggle—and even pain. It is also in this struggle that our relationship with God is born and the name Yisrael is realized.

The Question of Refugees

2011-12-09T06:32:00.000-08:00

Given my recent complaints about Israeli videos I thought to share the below video produced by Israel's foreign ministry. It explores the history of Palestinian refugees. I could do without the cartoon commentaries, but these facts nonetheless deserve repeating. The story about the United Nations is especially important for the world to hear. I fear however that we are only listening to ourselves.

Vayishlach

2011-12-08T13:02:00.001-08:00

Last week’s paper reported a wrenching story from Afghanistan. A 21 year old woman named Gulnaz, jailed for two years because she was raped, was freed by President Karzai’s government. She was freed on the condition that she marry the man who raped her.

My first response to this outrageous story was: send in US Special Forces to rescue her. Let’s use US forces to bring a clear and decisive good to the Middle East. Let’s use our military might to rescue those in need. If ever there was a righteous moral cause this was it. Save Gulnaz and the far too many women like her from the oppressiveness of their own societies. I of course understand the realpolitik arguments. We sometimes forget that these are about what we can accomplish not what we should strive to achieve.

And then I remembered my own book of Deuteronomy. “If a man comes upon a virgin who is not engaged and he seizes her and lies with her, and they are discovered, the man who lay with her shall pay the girl’s father fifty shekels of silver, and she shall be his wife. Because he has violated her, he can never have the right to divorce her.” (Deuteronomy 22:28-29)

My own Torah stands alongside the Afghan government? Jewish law has of course long since abandoned this ruling. Over the centuries rabbinic authorities became unanimous in condemning violence against women. Yet there remain those who wish return to the ways and norms of the ancient Middle East—even in our own midst.

We teach our children to accept different cultures. We declare that we should refrain from imposing our values on other societies. But there must be limits to my pluralism and multi-culturalism. I am losing patience, especially as I watch societies that our country supports commit such wrongs. Dare we remain silent in the face of such brutalities? How can we not declare what is wrong, wrong.

In Saudi Arabia, where a woman can be arrested for driving, a leading cleric recently declared that allowing women to drive would increase prostitution, pornography, homosexuality and divorce. Even in Israel several leading burial societies are enforcing gender separation and preventing women from speaking at an increasing number of funerals. Neither example is of course as outrageous as that from Afghanistan. Make no mistake. There is a direct line between the dismissal of a woman’s voice and treating a rape victim as chattel.

And then I read this week’s portion. In Parashat Vayishlach we read the story of the rape of Dinah, Jacob’s only daughter (Genesis 34). Dinah goes out to the field to see her neighbors. The local prince, Shechem, rapes Dinah and then decides he loves her and wants to marry her. Despite Anita Diamant’s romantic interpretation in her book, The Red Tent, the Torah’s language is clear. The sexual act is violent. Shechem’s father, Hamor, then approaches Jacob and his sons to discuss a marriage proposal. The sons suggest that Shechem and all his male subjects circumcise themselves. Then Shechem will be an acceptable groom for their sister. When the men are still recovering from this painful procedure, Simeon and Levi attack the town and slaughter all the men, most especially Shechem and his father Hamor, and rescue their sister Dinah from the king’s palace.

But Dinah is silent. Her voice is never heard. There is no cry of pain reported. There are no tears. We do not read of her father holding her, or of her mother Leah comforting her. We do not see her brothers reaching out to her. The events happen to her. The Torah I so love silences her. And so I declare, let her voice be heard!

The Jewish people march into the future. Only yesterday the former president of Israel, Moshe Katsav, began serving seven years for raping a subordinate at the Tourism Ministry and for the sexual harassment of two other women when he was president. The prophet’s voice is heard today. In modern day Israel no one stands above the law. A woman’s voice is heard.

Still there are those who blame Katsav’s victims and who use the Jewish tradition I hold so dear to demean women. And therein lies the tension. How do we mediate ancient laws with modern sensibilities? All religious traditions seek to gain wisdom from ancient days. We revere the old and the teachings of long ago. The person of faith favors the past over the future. The theory is simple. The nearer we are to Sinai (or Jesus or Mohammed for that matter) the closer we are to the revealed truth. And so some are unable to declare that Deuteronomy’s words are wrong, that the norms of the ancient Middle East belong to then and not now.

The great danger of faith is that in our reverence for the past we ignore the present. There are those who therefore see that the only way to gain more wisdom from long ago is to turn back the clock to those days. To look back to ancient days should not have to mean to be bound by those very same days. The Torah reflects an age that is not mine. Some of its laws belong only to the past. I can gain wisdom from the Torah while not living in its age.

Thus, while I disagree with Simeon and Levi’s actions, I share their sentiment. I am in tune with their righteous indignation. We can declare with them, “Should our sister be treated as a whore?” (Genesis 34:31) Let us rise up and declare that every woman is our sister and none shall ever again live in fear!

Vayetzei Sermon

2011-12-08T12:58:00.001-08:00

In this week’s portion Jacob journeys into the desertwilderness on his own and has a dream of a ladder reaching up to heaven withangels going up and down on it. It is anextraordinary passage. He awakens fromthe dream and exclaims, “Surely the Lord is present in this place and I did notknow it! How awesome is this place! This is none other than theabode of God, and the gateway to heaven.” (Genesis 28)

As I reflect on his experience two things come tolight. #1. He ventured on this journey without hisparents. Even his overprotective motherRebekah sent him on this journey on his own. And #2. He wandered by himself.

The first point is obvious. We have to let our children go to experience on their own, to succeedand fail on their own. Too often parentsdo things for children that they should do for themselves. Parents write their children’s bar/batmitzvah speeches and even their college papers. How can you make it in the world if your parents do all of the hardwork? Our children must learn to make itthrough the world on their own!

On the second point I wish to dwell in more detail. This point runs counter to Judaism’s greatestteaching. Judaism teaches that we are atour best when we are with others. Wereach greater heights when we are in community. The group lifts us to do better, to be better versions of our individualselves.

Yet here we see Jacob reaching unimaginable heights when onhis own. He is alone in the desertwilderness by himself. He is alone with histhoughts.

It occurs to me that we do not allow ourselves to truly bealone. We are so plugged in that we donot sit quietly and think. We do notwalk the streets or through nature unplugged.

Recently there was a Shabbat unplugged campaign. It suggested that we should shun electronicdevices on Shabbat. Obviously they areforbidden according to Jewish tradition. But the reason we might do away with these devices is not so muchbecause of the traditional prohibition but so that we can learn again to bealone.

Our children especially need constant electronicstimulation. They move from DVD playersto computers to iPhones. They constantlytext or Facebook. Can they still bealone with themselves and their thoughts? How can you really come up with an original idea with all of that noise?

My favorite places to walk are of course parks and Jerusalem. There you can be at one with nature. You can listen to the sounds of nature—andthe sounds of your own thoughts. SometimesI admit I walk the streets of Jerusalemtalking on my cellphone or listening to my iPod. Other times I walk the streets and think tomyself and I am at one with this city. InJerusalemespecially as Shabbat descends there is only you and the city.

Jacob teaches us important lessons for our own day. Jacob must set out by himself in order todream. While the community does indeedmake us better, we need to be alone with our thoughts, unplugged from theworld, in order to be creative. The clatterof modern life can sometimes get in the way of dreams. And dreams are the things that carry us intothe future.

Newsday Faith Column

2011-12-06T15:00:00.000-08:00

Recently I was interviewed for Newsday's "Asking the Clergy" column. The question was "Is it a holiday concert or a Christmas concert? Does the name matter?" The column appeared on Saturday, December 3rd. What follows is my response.

I understand the conflict and appreciate both perspectives. On the one hand, one of the things that make this country great is the inclusiveness. Call it a holiday concert is the most inclusive. That is really wonderful, and I really enjoy that. On the other hand, when we're too generic, we miss out on the strength of each individual religion.

I think that when we say "Happy Holidays" instead of "Happy Hanukkah" or "Merry Christmas," we are missing out on the strength of that greeting. It is kind of funny, but I can be walking down the street wearing a yarmulke and someone will still say, "Merry Christmas" or the generic "Happy Holiday." I don't get offended. It is just odd. If I see someone wearing a cross, I say, "Merry Christmas," not "Happy Holiday."

When it comes to the name of a concert, if it is for a large group and you have many different faiths, and maybe you're at a school and you don't want to offend, then holiday concert is appropriate. But it would be silly for a church or a synagogue to have a holiday concert.

I think it is nice at a public school to be exposed to people of different faiths. I would hear Handel's "Messiah" every year during the concert at my daughter's school. I would still go to hear it, even though she has graduated. I enjoy hearing it. Handel's "Messiah" is a beautiful piece. And, I expect it to be called a holiday concert because it is at a school.

Vayetzei

2011-12-01T10:22:00.001-08:00

Sometimes dreams must be nurtured by venturing off alone, unsheltered by friends, family and community.

“Jacob left Beersheva, and set out for Haran. He came upon a certain place and stopped there for the night… He had a dream; a stairway was set on the ground and its top reached to the sky, and angels of God were going up and down on it.” (Genesis 28:10-12)

Jacob, our hero, is actually running from his brother Esau who has threatened to kill him after he stole the birthright. Throughout Jacob’s early life he enjoys the protecting love of his mother Rebekah who engineered the plot to deceive her husband Isaac and steal the birthright from Esau. Our Torah portion begins with Jacob on the run. He is alone in the desert wilderness.

And he is alone with his dreams.

And so I have been thinking that we must learn to be alone in order to rediscover our dreams. Too often people confuse being alone with loneliness. They fight against loneliness and therefore avoid being alone. Or they think that listening to music on noise cancelling headphones is to be alone. As much as I love and value listening to music, it is not the same as being alone with our thoughts. Modern day portable electronics allow me to swim among others even though I might be standing by myself.

To be alone is instead to be by myself, to be alone with my thoughts.

Thus we must venture out alone. Have you ever gone for a walk by yourself? There by yourself you can be in tune with the sounds of nature. Have you ever sat and rather than turn on the TV to keep you company been at ease with your own thoughts? Rarely do we allow ourselves to be alone, do we allow ourselves solitary moments when we could be offered flashes of introspection and inspiration. Even when driving in our cars we surround ourselves with the radio’s music (or SiriusXM or the DVD player) and the chatter of cell phones. On walks we even take hold of the leash of our pets or arrange for friends to join us.

Years ago I participated in an Outward Bound survival course. Central to the program was the solo when each of the participants was placed alone on an island for three days. We were supplied with plenty of water but no food. We were required to build a makeshift shelter for ourselves. We were not allowed any reading materials or portable electronics. Most significant we were not allowed to bring a watch.

I still remember the name of my island “Little Thoroughfare.” It was a tiny, uncharted island off the coast of Maine. It rained for all but two hours of the three days. I was hungry and cold the entire time.

Our instructors sent us to our solo with some advice I still remember. “If you are lonely on your solo, remember the company you are keeping.” I continue to reflect on those words and my solo experience. It was not the hunger or the cold that was the most difficult. It was instead the lack of human contact. And it was especially that I could not be sure what time it was. Was it two hours until dark? Would it be an hour before the boat would come to pick me up and I would again see my friends? Even when we are alone, we count the hours and minutes until others will join us.

Despite the fact that Judaism most values community and togetherness sometimes the greatest teachings are found and dreams are born when we are by ourselves. It is not just that we must allow our children to make their way on their own. Like Rebekah we must indeed send them off by themselves. We must also allow ourselves to be alone. Instead we rely on the company of iPods and cellphones, radio and TV. We fear being by ourselves. And so we run from our dreams. Jacob instead runs towards them.

Never be afraid to be alone with your dreams.

Next week Jacob will become Israel after wrestling with an angel. That story begins with the words: “And Jacob was left alone.” (Genesis 32:25)

Our hero was again alone. And in this moment the dream of Israel was also born.

Toldot

2011-11-23T14:39:00.001-08:00

I wonder what family meals were like in Isaac and Rebekah’shouse. Isaac favored one son,Esau. Rebekah favored the other,Jacob. There was, I would imagine, palpabletension between their children. On oneoccasion Esau returned home after hunting for game. He was terribly hungry. Jacob refused to give him some of the lentilstew he was preparing until Esau agreed to sell him his birthright. Esau was so hungry that he spurned hisbirthright? Jacob was so devious that hetook advantage of his brother’s weakness? Where was Rebekah while her children fought? Where was Isaac?

On Thanksgiving we gather with family and friends. In every gathering there are similartensions. There might be the aunt whoalways asks too many personal questions. There could be the distant cousin who appears to sit in judgment ofeveryone else. Take comfort from theTorah. Tensions were part and parcel ofevery family, even our first Jewish family.

In this week’s Torah portion we see how Isaac handles thesetensions. Isaac is now old andblind. As he confronts his mortality hewants to give his sons some words of advice and a final blessing. He instructshis son Esau to go hunting and prepare his favorite dish. Rebekah overhears the request and quicklyprepares the dish instead. She pushestheir other son Jacob toward Isaac, dressing him in Esau’s clothes and coveringhis arms with animal fur so as to trick her husband into thinking it was hairyEsau. She hands Jacob Isaac’s favoritemeal to present to his father.

Isaac appears to sense something is amiss. “Isaacsaid to Jacob, ‘Come closer that I may feel you, my son—whether you are reallymy son Esau or not.’ So Jacob drew close to his father Isaac, who felt him andwondered. ‘The voice is the voice of Jacob, yet the hands are the hands ofEsau.’ …He asked, ‘Are you really my sonEsau?’ And when he said, ‘I am,’ hesaid, ‘Serve me and let me eat of my son’s game that I may give you myinnermost blessing.’” (Genesis 27:21-25)

Isaacthen blesses his son Jacob. Esau soonreturns from the field and is distraught to discover what has transpired whilehe was busy hunting. He bursts intotears and is overcome with anger, threatening to kill his brother. Jacob runs to his uncle’s to escape. On his journey Jacob discovers far more abouthimself than he did while remaining in his mother’s over-protective care. But that would be the subject for the comingweek.

Icontinue to believe that Isaac knew the truth of who stood before him and thathis blindness was willful. He chose notto verbalize the trickery he suspected. Isaac knew it was his son Jacob who kneeledbefore him to receive the prized blessing. I am certain that our forefather could distinguish his wife’s cookingfrom his son’s. I could most certainlydiscern the difference between Susie’s cooking and Ari’s with my eyes closed! Isn’t it then obvious that the meal Rebekahprepared was the unspoken signal between husband and wife?

Thelesson is that not every truth needs to be spoken. Sometimes when it comes to family it isbetter to choose not to see.

Too often our choice is to tell family members what wereally think, to tell the annoying aunt what is really on our mind and what hasbeen bothering us for these past ten Thanksgivings. Too often we choose the righteousness of theprophets and not the willful blindness of Isaac when sitting with our families. Isaac’s choice seems the better option for ourfamilies. The prophets are more apt forcorrecting the failings of our society at large. When sitting with our family peace andharmony are always more prized. Whatappears as a weakness, namely his blindness, might in truth be Isaac’s greateststrength.

I wish you an enjoyable Thanksgiving celebration. Enjoy the company of family, especially if itis with a child returning from their first months of college. Try not to allow that annoying family member toget under your skin. Instead relish infamily. It should always be a blessingto be celebrated.

Take a moment to thank God for the blessings of thiscountry. Across this great land peopleof many different faiths will be begin their meals with words of thanks inHebrew, English, or Arabic, Russian, Chinese, or Hindi. All will thank God for the freedoms of thiscountry. Take a moment to remember theseblessings. Recall as well those who areless fortunate. Enjoy the bounty of yourmeals but pledge to redouble your efforts to help others. And of course if you are driving, drivesafely.

Ryan Braun Wins MVP

2011-11-23T09:52:00.000-08:00

Ryan Braun Wins MVP - by Marc Tracy - Tablet Magazine
Which is better? Ryan Braun winning MVP or the Cardinals winning the World Series? The Cards! Nonetheless this should be noted especially as we gather to celebrate Thanksgiving, a holiday that marks the confluence of our American and Jewish values.

Marc Tracy writes: Jewish slugger Ryan Braun was named the National League’s Most Valuable Player today, becoming the first Milwaukee Brewer to win the honor since Robin Yount in 1989 (when the Brew Crew were in the American League) and the first Jew since Sandy Koufax in 1963 (the Dodger great won three Cy Young Awards but only one MVP—the short list of pitchers who have accomplished both gained a new member this year, as Detroit Tigers ace Justin Verlander took home both in the AL). The other Jewish MVPs include Al Rosen (1953), Lou Boudreau (1948), Hank Greenberg (1935, 1940), and … that’s it. So, yeah, historic.

On to football season!

November-December Newsletter

2011-11-22T17:17:00.001-08:00

What follows is my November-December Newsletter message in which I answer our students’ “Ask the Rabbi”questions.

What is my favoritecolor?

Blue. I like the blueof the Israeli flag. I like the blue ofthe sky. Blue has always been a favoriteJewish color which is why it is often found in a hamsa, a Sephardicamulet. There is in fact a synagogue inSafed, Israel, the heart of Jewish mysticism, whose interior is paintedblue. Everywhere you turn in Safed youfind this blue. Oops, sorry you justasked about my favorite color. It isblue like the sky.

When is my birthday?
July 1, 1964. 21 Tammuz 5724. The Torah portion Pinhas was read insynagogue on Shabbat a few days later. Look at what you can learn from the internet!

What is my favoritefood?

I love hummus. It ishealthy and delicious and can be added to anything. Zohan was wrong, however. It should not be used in your hair. You really should try some hummus.

How did God get the idea for Hebrew?

I don’t think God invented the language you are nowstruggling to understand. People writelanguages. The coolest thing aboutHebrew is that it has so many different words for God. It is just like what you learn about theEskimos and snow. We love God so muchthat we have a lot of different names for God. Our different names are how we try to get closer to God and how we tryto bring more God into the world.

What is my Hebrew name?

My Hebrew name is Shmaryah. The name means God is my guard or perhaps I am God’s guardian. You decide. I am named for my mother’s grandmother Sarah, who was the most devoutperson in our family. Interesting. Mysterious. If you mean what is your Hebrew name, you should ask your mom ordad. Make sure to ask for whom you arenamed as well. That is the mostimportant part. It is a wonderful Jewishcustom that we are named for someone who has recently died. That way we keep their memory alive.

Why do we say a prayerbefore we eat?

Actually you are supposed to say a prayer before and afteryou eat. It is not really a prayer inwhich we are asking for something. It isinstead a blessing that we are giving thanks for something. Before we eat we pause and say, “Thank you.”First we thank God for blessing us with enough food to eat. It is just like thanking your mom or dad forcooking dinner for you or buying dinner for you. I hope you do that too. You should always say “thank you.” Nothing should ever be expected or taken forgranted, even the food that you eat. That is why it is always good to stop before you stuff your mouth withfood and say, “Thank you.” The more wesay thank you the more we are likely to count everything that happens, even theordinary, everyday stuff, as wonderful. You should never think that everything you have is deserved. Instead think that everything you have is agift. Every day that you get a gift youshould say thanks. The more you say aprayer before you eat the more you will become thankful. That is a great state of mind.

Is God Catholic orJewish?
God is God. People are Catholic orJewish, Muslim or Hindu, Baptist or Buddhist. There are many ways to pray to God. I like the Jewish way the best. Thatis part of what makes me a rabbi. Thatdoes not make other ways bad. I have myfavorite. I hope yours is the same. ButGod does not have a favorite. God wantseveryone to do his or her best. Godwants everyone to try to make the world a little better. God wants everyone to start every day andevery meal with a thank you. God wantseveryone to think that every day and every life is a gift.

Keep asking your questions. That is the best way to learn more. Asking questions has always been one of the things Jews do best.

Images

2011-11-21T12:59:00.000-08:00

A disturbing video shared by my colleague, Rabbi Andy Bachman. His post is a poignant, and unsettling, reminder of the dangers of power. Like him I love Israel but continue to stubbornly believe, even though some will also say, naively believe, that what we most love must sometimes be subjected to critique Only through honest heshbon hanefesh, examining oneself, can we grow better. I share this more for what Andy writes than what the video portrays.

Like so many Jewish communities who find themselves gathered inside a synagogue each week to celebrate Shabbat, ours was filled to overflowing this past weekend--young and old of all ages, from sundown Friday til sundown Saturday. We honored ten of our members who served in the American Armed Forces at a special Veterans Day Shabbat Friday evening, commemorating the service of men who were in the Second World War, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War. Saturday in the morning there was learning, Shir l'Shabbat, Yachad, Altshul, a Lay-Led Minyan, and more learning, along with two different discussions: one, a panel discussion on issues related to conversion to Judaism; and two, a discussion with two young Israelis and two young Palestinians about the Btselem Camera Project.

Some time ago, Btselem, an Israeli human rights organization, began giving away video cameras to Palestinians in the West Bank in order to document the engagement between Israeli soldiers and Palestinians. Recorded encounters, sometimes mundane and sometimes shocking to witness, provide a window into the human side of a greatly entrenched conflict. The hope is to allow citizens to bear witness to any potential human rights abuses--never enjoyable work by any means but essential work nonetheless for any democracy that prides itself on its morality and inherent decency.

Now let me state clearly: I am not a pacifist. War, horrifying as it can be, is a sometimes necessary burden we bear when conflict can no longer be negotiated. And as a Jew, I take great pride in Israel's existence and its ability to defend itself. Further, I am under no illusion that many leaders among Palestinians and in the Arab world broadly are working for (or at the very least hoping for) the destruction of Israel.

But these videos are not meant to capture those bad guys. And they are bad guys.

These videos are meant to capture moments when our guys misbehave, when their power gets beyond them, and when, for reasons that are complex, psychological, traumatic and sometimes immoral, they lose control. Aimed guns at the heads of unarmed people; firing tear gas canisters at someone's head; wearing masks and attacking elderly people with wooden poles; shooting a young man in the foot.

We shouldn't want to see this and we shouldn't have to see it but it's what happens when our hatred controls us rather than our own triumphant mastery of hate. And the purpose of human rights activists--objectively speaking--is to document what happens, shed light where it needs to be shed, and, when necessary, bring to justice those who need to be brought to justice. And sometimes, in conflict, our guys need to be brought to justice. We may not like it. We may think, "But in the long-run, they just want Israel to go away!" But in the long run, a society without justice for its least fortunate will one day deprive even the most fortunate of justice. God's justice, our tradition teaches, extends to us all.

In the video I chose to share at the top of this site, these details are included in a sidebar description from Btselem: "Following a subsequent investigation, the officer, Lt. Col. Omri Borberg, and solider, Staff Sergeant Leonardo Corea, were charged by the Army with “conduct unbecoming”. Following a high court petition against the lenient charge, the soldier was charged with unlawful use of weapons, and the officer with attempted threats. Both were also charged with conduct unbecoming. The two were convicted and in the beginning of 2011. The officer was sentenced to a suspended jail sentence and a halt to promotion for two years. The soldier was sentenced to demotion to the rank of private." We don't celebrate such things; but we know that in this particular case, there is the attempt to make justice out of an act that demands it.

So Saturday morning ten of us sat in a circle, heard stories, and then watched several videos which were not easy to see. But they were necessary to see. In one video in particular, a soldier who had lost his cool and shot a young boy in the foot was brought to justice, disciplined by his commanding officer, precisely because of the recorded footage. What abuses of power were once tolerated because they were not seen are now seen, heard, and, at times, even adjudicated. For the greater cause of Zionism, for the justness of our right to live in our historic homeland, that's a good thing.

Today you may have read that two bills are currently in the Israeli Knesset seeking to limit foreign funding for Israeli human rights organizations. This is not a good thing. In the words of the Executive Director of the American Jewish Committee, David Harris, "These legislative efforts to restrict funding for non-governmental organizations run contrary to core democratic principles that are Israel’s greatest strength. If there is a concern that foreign, and possibly antagonistic, entities are funding civic or political groups in Israel, then let there be a debate on the advisability of requiring full disclosure of the revenues, and their sources, of such groups across the political spectrum." The New Israel Fund, targeted last year by these same political leaders who are sponsoring this legislation this year, has some helpful suggestions for ways to make your voice heard on this issue.

Core democratic principles are Israel's strength. I agree. Making sure that Jews defend themselves justly makes us stronger as a nation. Turning our eyes and hearts from injustice weakens us. Though we don't want to admit the worst things about ourselves, doing so strengthens us for far greater challenges ahead.

When our program ended, I sat for a moment reflecting upon the images just seen, the voices just heard, the actions we had witnessed. And then I looked at the two Israelis and the two Palestinians, who, but for language and accent, were indistinguishable from one another. What united them was their desire for peace, their faith in democracy, and, especially on Shabbat, inside the synagogue, that each was made בצלם--Btselem: In the Image of God.

Their projected image of tolerance and friendship can be better achieved when we can see what goes wrong--with just enough time to correct it--before it gets worse.

Chayei Sarah Sermon

2011-11-21T11:22:00.001-08:00

This evening we learn of three cities and threelessons. Each of these cities offers usa value and a cautionary note. Werelearn these values and we recall their accompanying cautionary notes.

The first city is from the Torah portion. It is Hebron. In this week’s Torah portion Sarah dies atthe age of 127 years. Abraham mourns herand seeks to buy a burial plot. Hepurchases the Cave of Machpeleh from Ephron,the Hittite. We learn that Abraham paysmore than the asking price and thus Hebronbecomes the first Jewish city. From thiscity we are reminded that the land, the land of Israel,is holy. It is made holy by Sarah’sdeath and by Abraham’s purchase.

Here is where it all started. Our faith began in Hebron,located in the modern day West Bank. Thus it is not just any land that thePalestinians claim. It is our people’s as well. When it comes time to make peace (may that day be very soon) it will notbe as simple as withdrawing from Gush Katif in Gaza. And if you recall this recent history, remember that was not so simpleor easy. In Hebron we still feel Jewish history and itsreverberations. There one can senseAbraham’s and Sarah’s presence.

Still our cautionary note is that the land is not more holythan people. No place is worth more thanhuman life and preserving Jewish democracy. Even a place as holy as Hebron,with its many Jewish resonances, is worth sacrificing for the sake offurthering democracy and saving lives.

The second city is Berlin. We think of it because of our recentcommemoration of Kristallnacht. On November9, 1938 in Germany and Austria, and in particular in Berlin, the Nazis perpetrated this night ofbroken glass. There are many dates towhich we can point and date the beginning of the Holocaust. This date would be one. On this day the Nazis destroyed and burnedsynagogues and Jewish books. And on thisday the world stood by. Kristallnachtwas reported but little if anything was done. The Nazis were allowed to destroy Jewish lives and homes with impunity.

We are reminded that even the most cultured of places canbecome evil. The place that gave the worldBeethoven and Schopenhauer also gave rise to the past century’s mostunparalleled evil.

Lest we be naïve, we must proclaim that antisemitism stillexists. We hear its venom coming from Iran. It exists even in the United States. There are tinges of it emanating from OccupyWall Street. This is a movement that isall about anger and not about reform and change. Protest for something rather than againstsomething. Use feelings ofdisenfranchisement as a tool to better our world. From the memory of Jewish Berlin we arecautioned: stay vigilant. Never be soquick to dismiss racisim and antisemitism. It can arise anywhere and everywhere. It can be found in any city.

The third city we think of is our very own New York. We think of it because of Thanksgiving. Here in New Yorkwe enjoy unprecedented freedoms. Thiscountry is built on immigration and meritocracy. Here anyone can build a life for him orherself.. That is what we celebrate and give thanks for on the upcomingholiday of Thanksgiving.

On this day we celebrate these freedoms especially, mostnotably the freedom of religion. Here wecan be proud Jews and loyal Americans. Wemust remember that the freedoms we so relish must remain open to all. We celebrate that anyone can be successfulhere. We not only celebrate our ownsuccesses but the openness by which anyone can find success. We must caution ourselves not to close these doorsof opportunity to others. What wasopened to us should remain open to all.

In 1790 George Washington sent a letter to the Jews ofNewport and in particular to the leaders of the Touro Synagogue. He was responding to their words of congratulationswhen he became our country’s first president. It is his words with which I conclude. His words serve as the best reminder of what is great about this country. Forgive his highfalutin English. It is howpeople wrote and spoke back then.

The Citizens of the United States of America have aright to applaud themselves for having given to mankind examples of an enlargedand liberal policy: a policy worthy of imitation. All possess alike liberty ofconscience and immunities of citizenship. It is now no more that toleration isspoken of, as if it was by the indulgence of one class of people, that anotherenjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights. For happily theGovernment of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecutionno assistance, requires only that they who live under its protection shoulddemean themselves as good citizens, in giving it on all occasions theireffectual support.

It would be inconsistent with the frankness of my characternot to avow that I am pleased with your favorable opinion of my Administration,and fervent wishes for my felicity. May the children of the Stock of Abraham,who dwell in this land, continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the otherinhabitants; while every one shall sit in safety under his own vine andfigtree, and there shall be none to make him afraid. May the father of all mercies scatter lightand not darkness in our paths, and make us all in our several vocations usefulhere, and in his own due time and way everlastingly happy.

Amen, President Washington. May we always remember what each of these cities teach us. May wecontinue to cherish the values they have granted us.

Israel IQ by Stand with Us

2011-11-18T09:59:00.001-08:00

A congregant shared this video with me. It is a powerful, if unfortunate, reminder about how little people really know about Israel and the issues and conflicts in the Middle East. I could do without some of Mark Schiff's sarcasm, but it is understandable. There is so much more teaching to be done!

Chayei Sarah

2011-11-17T14:13:00.001-08:00

Most of the stories in Genesis focus on the patriarchs,Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. We learnlittle about Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah.

This week however we read of the death of the firstmatriarch, Sarah. “Sarah’s lifetime—thespan of Sarah’s life—came to one hundred and twenty-seven years. Sarah died in Kiryat-Arba—nowHebron—in the land of Canaan;and Abraham proceeded to mourn for Sarah and to bewail her.” (Genesis 23:1-2)

Sarah’s life appears to be defined only by the few episodesin which she accompanies her husband Abraham. She joins Abraham on his God ordained journey to the land of Israel. She laughs at the thought of giving birth toa child at the age of 90 (Genesis 18). Miraculously she does give birth to this child and he is named,“Laughter—Isaac.” Abraham and Sarahcelebrate the birth of this hoped for, prayed for, and longed for child. Sarah proclaims: “God has brought me laughter;everyone who hears will laugh with me. Who would have said to Abraham that Sarah would suckle children! Yet I have a born a son in his old age.” (Genesis 21:6-7)

In the following chapter, God appears to Abraham andcommands him to sacrifice his beloved son Isaac on Mount Moriah. The Akedah, the binding of Isaac, is theTorah reading for the second day of Rosh Hashanah. Curiously Sarah is nowhere mentioned in thisextraordinary tale. How can Isaac’smother be absent from one of the most significant events in her son’slife? I cannot imagine that she wassilent, that she did not participate in some way in this formative event.

The rabbis of old notice her absence. They suggest that the reason the Torah statesthat Abraham got up early in the morning to fulfill God’s command is that hewoke up while Sarah was still sleeping. They suggest that Sarah never would have allowed Abraham to try tosacrifice her only son, the son of her old age. Abraham was therefore left to sneaking out of the house before dawn inorder to fulfill God’s request.

The ancient rabbis also notice the proximity of the bindingof Isaac to this week’s Torah portion. They ask why did Sarah die in thechapter following the Akedah? Theysuggest that she died of a heart attack after she discovered what heroverzealous husband almost did to her only son. Thus she died of a broken heart.

Both of these ancient midrashic attempts recognize that wemust discover what all of our heroes did in the Torah, even if their actionsare not explicitly mentioned. This isthe meaning of midrash. Our traditionrefuses to accept the Torah as literal. Our stories are sometimes mere outlines. Who could imagine an absent Jewish mother? How could Sarah not have a voice in thisepisode? She has waited 90 years for achild. Wouldn’t she therefore beespecially overprotective of her son?

More recently feminists, of whom I consider myself, haveadded different interpretations about Sarah’s role. One suggests that God appeared to bothAbraham and Sarah and separately commanded them to sacrifice their sonIsaac. Thus God tested both Abraham andSarah. Abraham said, “Yes, ofcourse.” Sarah said, “No way.” Is it possible that Sarah’s answer was thecorrect answer to God’s test? When Sarahwoke up she realized that God had also appeared to Abraham and that he had nowleft to do God’s bidding.

Sarah prayed with all her might and an angel responded toher plea, calling to Abraham, “Do not raise your hand against the boy…“ (Genesis 22:12) A ram appeared, caught in the thicket by itshorns. So Abraham took the ram andsacrificed it in place of his son. Sarahdied, having expended all of her life, and sacrificing herself in place of herson. To be honest, this makes more senseto me.

Whether ancient or modern the Jewish genius has always beento write ourselves and our experiences into the stories found in theTorah. Our Torah is a living bookbecause we continue to interpret and reinterpret its words and verses dependingon our circumstances and experiences.

I can only imagine a God who calls to both men andwomen. A God who only speaks to men isnot part of my faith. All, men andwomen, young and old, must continue to hear God’s voice wherever they maystand. I believe that Sarah did as well as Abraham.

That is our Judaism. That is what we believe. Don’tlet anyone tell you otherwise.

Vayera Sermon

2011-11-17T14:09:00.001-08:00

As I always teach, we do notchoose our bar/bat mitzvah portion, it chooses us. The challengeis to wrest meaning from the Torah’s words. Week in week out, year after year, we have to read all of the Torah’swords. We have to find meaning in itslaws, in its intricacies, in its stories. That is what it means to be a Jew. We must apply the words of the Torah to our daily lives.

And so here is this week’s story and lesson. First areminder about the story and the somewhat sordid details of how Abraham and hiswife Sarah deal with their first son Ishmael and his mother Hagar. After Sarah gives birth to Isaac she seesHagar’s son Ishmael as competition and so instructs Abraham to kick themout. Abraham is at first distraught andconsults with God who tells Abraham to listen to his wife Sarah. Abraham sends Hagar and Ishmael into thedesert with meager rations. They nearly diein the heat, but are rescued by God and the appearance of a miraculous well.

It is a wrenching story. It is disturbing for two reasons. There is profound disappointment in Abraham and Sarah. And there is the pain of Hagar and Ishmael.

Hagar says, “Let me not look on as the child dies.” And sitting at a distance, she burst intotears. Vatisa et kola vatevk: And shelifted up her voice and cried. TheHebrew is even more poignant. And Godheard the cry of the boy: Vayishma Elohim et hakol hanaar.

I have two observations. Sometimes those closest to us, sometimes those we most love, disappointus, do wrong. The pain of Hagar andIshmael is caused by Sarah and Abraham. Myheroes have indeed disappointed me.

This brings me to Penn State and the revelationsof pedophilia and cover ups coming from there. Those who we held in high esteem have done wrong. So many people, of all these great people,did not do enough to save these children. Too few did the right thing. Itis an unequivocal moral lapse when people fail to protect children, when they failto protect those most vulnerable. The Penn Statestudents, the college community cannot see this. They still only see their heroes—and theirterrible flaws. They can only seeAbraham and Sarah’s achievements and not the pain they have caused others.

It is like our Jewish tradition that cannot see Abraham’simperfections. How can Abraham do whathe did? Even though God says it is ok,he should have given his son Ishmael and his mother enough water. This is the first lesson. We must see even our greatest heroes asflawed. I imagine that Abraham’shousehold quietly whispered about what Abraham was doing. I suspect that many people knew the truthabout the Penn State coach. I imagine that they quietlyspoke about what was happening to Hagar and Ishmael but did nothing. They whispered, but failed to act. Everyone failed to stop our heroes—and theyare therefore diminished in our eyes. Andthen others become culpable.

The Talmud states: “Whoever can prevent his/her householdfrom committing a sin but does not, is responsible for the sins of his/herhousehold; if he can prevent his fellow citizens, he is responsible for thesins of his fellow citizens; if she can prevent the whole world, she isresponsible for the sins of the whole world.” Don’t be afraid to see even the greatest people as making mistakes. And if you are a true friend, then try tostop them. Don’t apologize for them,don’t excuse their wrongs. Instead helpthem do the right thing.

My second observation. God hears the cries of those in pain. God hears all and listens to all. No one has a cornerstone on God’s ear. No faith has a more direct line to God than any other. This is the power of including Hagar andIshmael’s pain in our Torah. This is thepower of including their cry to God in our Torah. They may not be part of the Jewish story, butthey are part of God’s concern.

It is somewhat comforting that God hears the cries of thosein pain. But we must as well. We must hear the cries of those who arehungry, of those in chains. Of course wecannot fix all of the world’s problems. IfGod responds to the cry of the son of servant girl, how much the more so mustwe respond to the pain of others. This is the most important lesson. We must work to alleviate the pain of thosesuffering. If God hears their cry wemust as well.

Although we might be disappointed with our heroes we mustalways reach out to everyone, and anyone, who is in pain.

Vayera

2011-11-10T13:37:00.001-08:00

This week we hear Hagar and her son, Ishmael, cry out in pain. They have journeyed into the desert and have exhausted their meager supply of food and water. After the birth of Isaac to Sarah, Abraham sends his older son, Ishmael, and his mother, Hagar, out to the desert. “When the water was gone from the skin, she left the child under one of the bushes, and went and sat at a distance…thinking, ‘Let me not look on as the child dies.’ And sitting afar, she burst into tears.”

It is a wrenching story. Abraham and Sarah, now the parents of Isaac, banish Hagar and Ishmael to the desert. How remarkable that this is the Torah reading for the first day of Rosh Hashanah. On this most sacred of days we read a story that concludes with a promise to the other. How extraordinary that our sacred book preserves the cry of those outside our Jewish circle. Moreover, how remarkable that our Torah affirms God hears this cry, most especially when those emerge from pain.

The message is clear. We do not have a cornerstone on faith. We do not possess the only path to God. Far too many speak with overconfidence in their own faith, as if they alone have God’s ear. This week’s Torah portion reminds us that God listens to the cries of all people.

We ignore these powerful verses and identify only with our Jewish heroes, Abraham and Sarah. We justify their actions. It is ok, we reason, because God ultimately rescues Hagar and Ishmael and offers them their own promise. Our tradition excuses our heroes’ actions and apologizes for their choices. We say, It is complicated. Ishmael would undermine God’s promise to Isaac. Ishmael would become the father of Muslims, many of whom now call us their enemy. Do such complications really excuse their actions?

I can only hear the boy’s cry.

I think of this week’s news from Penn State. In this situation as well people say it is complicated. We turn aside, we apologize for the wrongs of others, especially when they could undermine what we cherish and hold dear. But when a child is in danger, we must never turn a blind eye. It is one thing to hold our tongue when we see our friends’ children perhaps dress inappropriately. It is another thing when we see them in danger and for example, drive drunk. Then it should never be deemed complicated.

The saddest part of the story emerging from Penn State is that far too many adults failed to rescue children in need. Teachers, parents, coaches, and educators have a responsibility to protect children. They might say that the situation is complicated. They might worry that such sins will undermine their football achievements and their school’s promise. But it is not complicated when children are in danger. When children cry in pain, all must listen. When children cry out, no one should ever turn a deaf ear.

“God hears the cry of the boy, and an angel of God called to Hagar from heaven and said to her, ‘What troubles you, Hagar? Fear not, for God has heard the cry of the boy where he is…’ Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water.” (Genesis 21:15-19)

Learn this as well from the Torah! When children cry out, we dare not wait for a miraculous well to appear.

Global Hunger Shabbat

2011-11-10T13:30:00.000-08:00

Here is how I started my day. I dropped off leftover food at a local soup kitchen. In fact my car’s trunk was overflowing with bagels and cookies. Only a few hours later I went to Whole Foods to get lunch. I spent $15 for my quick lunch. A person living on food stamps gets $5.50 per day. Later tonight I will go home and will make dinner. I have not yet decided what I will prepare but I will open the refrigerator and search for inspiration. My day’s total will far exceed the allotment given to a person living on food stamps.

I am fortunate that I can buy anything I want. I am blessed. I may not choose to eat everything, but I am richly blessed that I have so many choices. This afternoon I could choose between the salmon with lemon butter, Mediterranean steak, brussel sprouts or quinoa salad. What variety will Whole Foods offer me today? This is how we eat.

Contrast this with the pictures from East Africa. There is a famine raging there that has claimed 10,000’s of lives. This is only part of the larger picture. Every day 925 million people go hungry. 98% of these live in developing countries. One out of four children in developing countries goes hungry. That is 146 million children. 6.5 million children die each year from hunger related causes.

As a Jew I refuse to accept that I can’t do anything to change this. Yes, the world is broken. And also yes, we can repair it.

The terrible irony is that the world’s farmers produce enough food to adequately feed every person on the planet. Part of the problem is that these children are too dependent on imported food and not local farming. Part of the problem is that the donations we send overseas undermine local food production and makes people even more food insecure.

Too often local farm lands are confiscated by governments for economic development. Water sources become contaminated by factories. Trade agreements sometimes have the unintended consequence of flooding local markets with cheap food imports. Likewise food-aid programs sometimes have similar effects. These undercut local farmers and their ability to sell their product and thereby make communities less self-sufficient.

The American Jewish World Service, with whom we are partnering this evening, is working to change these facts. Here is one example of an AJWS grantee. This can be found on the AJWS website. I encourage you to visit this website and learn more about this global problem.

Jean Saint Georges is a struggling farmer who lives in a rural village in Haiti. Over the past 20 years, food aid and trade policies have allowed imports of cheap agricultural goods from the United States and other countries to flood local markets. Jean and others like him couldn’t compete with the artificially low prices of these goods and were put out of business. Many of them migrated to the capital city Port-au-Prince in search of work, but once there, they encountered few employment opportunities. It is no surprise that 1.9 million Haitians, like Jean, faced hunger even before the earthquake on January 12, 2010.

The magnitude of the loss of life during the earthquake was due, in part, to this mass migration of rural farmers to the capital. Poverty forced these people to live in poorly constructed homes on steep mountainsides.

In the aftermath of the earthquake, international donors, including the U.S. government, sent food aid to Haiti. In the short term, this food helped feed thousands of earthquake survivors who had lost everything. But it has had an unintended—and devastating—consequence on local farmers. The influx of free rice from abroad brought the price of Haitian rice down so low that Haitian farmers couldn’t compete. Because they couldn’t earn an income from their crops, they couldn’t purchase seeds for this year’s crop. As one Haitian farmer put it: “We were already in a black misery after the earthquake of January 12th. But the rice they’re dumping on us, it’s competing with ours and soon we’re going to fall in a deep hole. When they don’t give [rice] to us anymore, are we all going to die?”

As Haiti rebuilds, it is important that international donors support local agricultural development, not undermine it. For example, the Partnership for Local Development (PLD), an AJWS grantee, helps Haitian farmers like Jean. The organization provides support to rural farmers, including seed and grain storage and training in methods to help the farmers maximize their agricultural production. In the aftermath of the earthquake, PLD also established cash-for-work programs to enable affected Haitians to earn an income. This allows them to rebuild their communities and decide. Through PLD’s cash-for-work program, Jean and his family were able to earn desperately needed money by working on a soil conservation project and fixing a local road. With the money they earned, the family bought food and clothes. Jean also received seeds to plant corn, beans and sweet potatoes. The soil conservation project has helped to ensure that the land where he farms will be viable for years to come. As a result, he no longer fears hunger.

Jean’s experience is not unique. Across Haiti, farmers are working to strengthen local agricultural production. It is the hope of AJWS to help promote Haitian self-sufficiency.

Even in this country we have similar problems. There are far too many people who go hungry in our very own country. Or, who because they are dependent on food stamps, buy unhealthy food. Organic vegetables are more expensive than a candy bar. I am not saying you have to eat at Whole Foods. (I certainly cannot afford to buy every lunch there.) But our country’s food aid programs undermine the eating of healthy food. Why buy fresh fruit and vegetable when you can buy an entire meal at McDonalds for the same price?

As a nation we should subsidize not the production of corn syrup but healthy eating. It should not be a luxury to eat organic. It should be a necessity. The consequences of our diet for our nation’s future are exceedingly worrisome.

We learn from our tradition that we cannot turn away from the world’s troubles. We especially cannot turn aside from the pains of hunger that are so near. We will continue to support the Interfaith Nutrition Network (the INN). We will do more and work in a soup kitchen not only on December 4th but on other days. Our hard work begins today.

So here is what we are going to continue to do.

1. Throughout this month we will be collecting canned food. Bring these to the office or the Hebrew School.

2. If you wish to make a monetary donation write “Social Action Fund” in the memo. We will use these monies to help the INN purchase turkeys for Thanksgiving.

3. The office will serve as a way station. If you have gently used clothes or books bring them to the office and I will find someone or an organization that can use them. There is unfortunately no shortage of need.

4. If you want to volunteer on December 4^th send me an email.

5. We will continue to collect leftovers from shiva. Although we are sad that there were so many tears in our congregation this week, by tomorrow afternoon a hungry person will no longer be hungry.

6. If you are planning a simcha add the extra planning of collecting the leftovers to your to do list.

This week we meet Abraham for the first time. Among the many traits that our tradition ascribes to him is that of hospitality. He would always welcome travelers into his tent and offer them food. Those who live in Israel’s desert, the Bedouins, still observe these ancient customs. If you are traveling by another’s tent you are welcomed in and offered food and water.

We instead speed from destination to destination. We run from house to house, play date to play date, or appointment to appointment. We are blind to the hunger and poverty that surrounds us. I am not suggesting that we welcome strangers into our homes. But like Abraham we can lift the flap of the tent open. We can open our eyes to the pain around us. We can resolve to do more.

The great faith of Abraham was that he understood what we too often forget; one person can change the world. And even if we don’t change the world, if we only save one life then all our efforts will be worth it.

May God grant us the resolve of Abraham to make our world better. And even if it is only a little better then grant us the faith to say, the effort will have been worth it.

The Israeli songwriter, Arik Einstein, wrote: “Ani v’atah… You and I can change the world, you and I. Then all will join us. Though it’s been said before it doesn’t matter. You and I will change the world. You and I will start from the beginning. It may be difficult, but it doesn’t matter.”

Yes indeed. You and I can change the world.

Lech Lecha

2011-11-03T11:13:00.001-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Lech Lecha. It is the story about the first Jews, Abraham and Sarah. In the opening of the portion Abraham is called and commanded to venture forth to a new land, the land of Israel. In the conclusion of the portion the covenant is sealed with Abraham and Sarah. For Abraham the sign of the covenant is circumcision. According to the rabbis Sarah goes to the mikvah to seal the covenant. Both Abraham and Sarah take on new names as symbols of their new identities. In the interim our heroes struggle—unsuccessfully—to have a child together. Ishmael is however born to Abraham through Hagar. It is not until next week’s portion that Sarah gives birth to Isaac. The promise of that birth is issued this week.

“When Abram was 99 years old, the Lord appeared to Abram and said to him, ‘I am El Shaddai. Walk in My ways and be blameless. I will establish My covenant between Me and you…. And you shall no longer be called Abram, but your name shall be Abraham, for I make you the father of a multitude of nations…. Such shall be the covenant between Me and you and your offspring to follow which you shall keep: every male among you shall be circumcised. You shall circumcise the flesh of your foreskin, and that shall be a sign of the covenant between Me and you…. As for your wife Sarai, you shall not call her Sarai, but her name shall be Sarah. I will bless her; indeed, I will give you a son by her.’” (Genesis 17)

Abraham then circumcises himself (at 99 years old), his son Ishmael (at thirteen) and all the men in his household. Isaac is the first to be circumcised at the age of eight days. For men there are two signs of our Jewish identities. One is private and the other public. Although brit milah (a bris) is performed publicly the sign remains private. It is only between a man and God. It is interesting (although perhaps uncomfortable) to reflect on circumcision. Judaism insists that the sign of the covenant must be inscribed in the most private of areas. It is here that a Jewish man is reminded of his obligations to the Jewish people.

For women no physical sign, or reminder, is demanded. The rabbis suggest this is because men need far more reminders than women. (Sorry guys.) Women require few, if any, reminders. There is no physical sign of the covenant. Nowhere in the Jewish tradition is female circumcision even suggested.

For both men and women the outward sign of their Jewish commitments is their name. When the covenant is sealed, both Abraham and Sarah take on their new names. To each of their given names of Abram and Sarai the Hebrew letter hey is added. This letter symbolizes God’s name and is still used to abbreviate God’s name. Thus they take God into their names and into their identities.

Throughout the ages the private sign of the covenant was observed with steadfast commitment. Even in ages when circumcision was a distinguishing mark and could result in persecution, as during the Holocaust, Jews observed this ritual. It should be noted that when Jews lived under Greek rule some underwent a painful procedure to reverse the sign of circumcision. This enabled them to compete in sports. Of course this was because men competed naked and thus this private sign was then public. Yet, especially in modern times, the outward sign of the covenant, a Jewish name, is relegated only to synagogue life. In the public square we call each other by American names. Wherever we lived we soon adopted the names of the surrounding culture.

We are comfortable being Jews in private. Yet in public we too often hide our identities. It is not that I no longer wish to be called by my name, Steven. It is instead that I wish to be known by my acts of compassion. Let the world come to know that a descendant of Abraham and Sarah reaches out to the world around him because his Judaism demands this of him. Let us be known by our kindnesses. Let this be the name that others attach to our people. Then the vision of the Torah and the promise later given to Abraham will also be fulfilled: “All the nations of the earth shall bless themselves by your descendants…” (Genesis 22)

Noah

2011-10-27T08:41:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion contains the familiar story of Noah and the flood. God was angry about humanity’s evil ways and so destroys the world’s inhabitants save Noah and his family and the animals two by two. After Noah emerges from the ark he offers a thanksgiving sacrifice and God promises him that never again will the earth be destroyed. The symbol of this covenant is the rainbow.

The portion begins with the statement: “This is the line of Noah.—Noah was a righteous man; he was blameless in his age; Noah walked with God.—Noah begot three sons: Shem, Ham, and Japheth.” (Genesis 6:9) The story of the flood concludes with a seemingly contradictory verse: “Noah, the tiller of the soil, was the first to plant a vineyard. He drank of the wine and became drunk, and he uncovered himself within his tent. Ham, the father of Canaan, saw his father’s nakedness and told his two brothers outside.” (Genesis 9:20-22)

According to many historians viniculture first began near Mount Ararat, located in modern day Turkey. This of course is where the ark came to rest as the flood waters receded. The Bible therefore locates the development of wine making with the earliest generations. More importantly the cultivation of grapes, especially those for wine, takes a great deal of time. This implies that a significant number of years have passed since the flood. Noah and his family have now become tied to the land. In fact Noah now has a grandson, Canaan.

This is exactly why the Jewish tradition prizes wine. It must be cultivated over years. This is part of its great value. It is for this reason that we use wine to welcome Shabbat and mark the holidays. It is for this reason as well that we recite a blessing and shout “L’chaim” when a bride and groom share the wine under the huppah. It is not because of its intoxicating effect. It is instead because it is a demonstration of how we can take God’s creation of grapes and fashion them into something of value and worth. Although water is required for sustenance wine is required to elevate life, to sanctify and transform an ordinary day into Shabbat and an everyday occasion into a simcha. This is what Noah discovered in our portion.

This of course does not mean that we are supposed to get drunk and certainly run around naked like Noah. So the question is why did Noah get drunk? The first answer is that he did not know the potency of what he had created. Like a high school or college student (Hmm, why would that come to mind?) he does not appreciate the power of alcohol. If this were the first cup of wine anyone had ever sipped how would he know its power? (I can tell them over and over again about the dangers of alcohol but they like Noah have to learn for themselves and taste its power on their own.)

Then again I once heard Elie Wiesel suggest that Noah became drunk because he was plagued by survivor’s guilt. He and his family were the only people to survive this great catastrophe. According to the rabbis he took a great deal of time to build the ark in the hope that others would inquire about his mission. The rabbis saw his righteousness and argued that his building project was meant as a sign to others so that they might repent. In the end no one even bothered to ask about his task. No one even bothered to offer help.

He emerged from the ark a scarred man. He emerged seeing himself as a failure. He was tortured by guilt. He could only save his family. No friends, no countrymen could be rescued. (Wiesel could only save himself.) But Noah cared for the entire world. And thus he spent his final years in his tent, plagued by guilt and feelings of failure.

Thus even the righteous sometimes stumble. They set too lofty goals for themselves. Noah’s great tragedy was that he tried to save the entire world. When you try to save everyone you are far more likely to fail. I choose instead to work to save our small corner of the world. Join me in this task.

We are partnering with the American Jewish World Service to mark Global Hunger Shabbat and eighteen days of action leading up to Thanksgiving. For more information visit this organization’s website.

Join me in these efforts to make a difference in our world. We dare not sit in our homes and like Noah in his concluding years look with pity at our own lot. We must instead start somewhere and work to rescue a piece of the world.

Simhat Torah Sermon

2011-10-24T13:51:00.001-07:00

We have come to the conclusion of the Tishrei marathon. We observed Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot and now finally, Simhat Torah. We travel from personal introspection and repentance to fasting and the recounting of our many failings to the wandering and fragility of temporary booths to now the joy of Simhat Torah.

We celebrate the conclusion of the Torah reading cycle and its simultaneous beginning. On this day we begin the cycle all over again. We believe that everything we ever wanted to know is in this scroll. It is only perhaps a matter of reading it at a different angle if the wisdom is not immediately apparent.

This is because all wisdom is contained in this book. This day is therefore cause for great celebration. Simhat Torah is the quintessential Jewish holiday. It is about dancing and singing. And these more than anything else are more the Jewish postures than the fasting and litany of sins on Yom Kippur. We are supposed to celebrate. We are commanded to rejoice.

In fact the Talmud Yerushalmi states that we will be held to account for all the joys we neglected to celebrate. When we approach the heavenly court we will be asked in effect, “Did we rejoice enough?” That in a nutshell is the Jewish message. Revel in life. Celebrate life. Most especially celebrate the gift of Torah. And never pass up an opportunity to join a party.

May this year offer us many opportunities to celebrate. May this year offer us many opportunities to learn from this Torah.

Simhat Torah

2011-10-24T13:50:00.001-07:00

What joy! We begin the Torah reading again. This is the sentiment surrounding Simhat Torah, the concluding holiday of the busy month of Tishrei. On this day we proclaim, “I am privileged to reach this milestone again. I am blessed to open this book again. I am overjoyed that I can unroll the Torah scroll yet again.”

For Judaism the greatest blessing is not the new, but to return to the old, the familiar. We return to this same book year after year. We read the Torah every year in the hope, and with the faith, that we will find something new there. In these pages we believe we will discover something new and restorative.

It is this same sentiment that accompanies our visits to the land of Israel. When we journey there we return to the land. It may very well be a modern state but in our souls we know that we are returning to an ancient land. This is Israel’s great and lasting power. (We rejoice as well about Gilad Shalit’s return!)

So much of modern day life is about the new. Do you have the iPhone 4S or are you waiting for the iPhone 5? Have you replaced your LCD TV with an LED TV? Moreover why watch football on a regular TV when you can watch it in 3-D? Such is the sentiment of contemporary culture. The newer something is the better it is called.

It is a bitter irony that the man who relentlessly developed such technologies and more efficient ways of communicating spent his life estranged from his birth father. Because Steve Jobs’ birth parents were not married when he was born they gave him up for adoption. After hiring a detective to find his birth parents, he developed a relationship with his birth mother and sister, but never his father. Despite extraordinary wealth, unrivaled technology and seemingly effortless communication tools, parts of Steve Jobs’ life remained fractured. What is new does not always redeem.

This is why Judaism suggests that the new is discovered in the old. We believe that it is in the old, in the ordinary, and in the most basic of relationships that truth is revealed. On the High Holidays we prayed that we might return to our truer selves, that we might rediscover the lofty purpose of our lives.

Even the bar and bat mitzvah on which we lavish so much attention is not the celebration of something new. It is not simply a thirteenth birthday party. It is instead the arrival at something old. On that day our son or daughter peers at the lettering of the Torah scroll and becomes linked to past generations. They return to the faith of their ancestors. Of course no generation’s faith is the same as its predecessor’s. Yet holding the scroll close to their hearts they reclaim their parent’s faith as their own. In the ancient calligraphy of the Torah scroll they also discover something new about themselves.

In our return we always discover something new. Such is our faith. This is our belief. This is our celebration on Simhat Torah.

Sukkot Sermon

2011-10-24T13:46:00.001-07:00

This Shabbat we find ourselves in the midst of the holiday of Sukkot. This day has its origins both in the agricultural seasons and Jewish history. In ancient times our ancestors used to build booths at their distant fields in order to make the fall harvesting easier. Our sukkot are thus reminiscent of this attachment to the land. Our booths also recall our wanderings through the desert, wandering from our freedom in Egypt to the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai. We travel between Passover and Shavuot. Sukkot therefore marks not a destination but a journey.

Moreover the entire Torah is a record of this journey. Like so many camping trips we were not always at our best. As we traveled we sometimes complained. This makes this holiday even more curious. Here is a day that marks a journey rather than the arrival at the intended destination. Ponder this. Most holidays are about getting there, or getting out of there rather than traveling to there. The message in this holiday is therefore that we are always journeying. We are never completely there. If you think you have arrived then your goals are too small. That is Sukkot’s power and its message.

This brings me to recent news and the announcement that Gilad Shalit will soon be home. What extraordinary news. He has been held for over five years in captivity. He has been held against all international laws. He has been denied visitors even from the Red Cross. His journey from captivity will soon be over.

I am proud and saddened by this moment. Netanyahu and Israel have agreed to trade over 1,000 prisoners for one life. I am sad that murderers will go free. I am saddened that those who have killed will be free and that those who lost family members will see these terrorists come home to a heroes’ welcome. That might be almost too much to bear and far too much to imagine.

Then again I am proud that Israel so values the lives of its citizens and especially its citizen soldiers that it is willing to make this extraordinarily unbalanced deal. Yossi Klein Halevi said: “For all my anxieties about the deal, I feel no ambivalence at this moment, only gratitude and relief. Gratitude that I live in a country whose hard leaders cannot resist the emotional pressure of a soldier’s parents. And relief that I no longer have to choose between the well-being of my country and the well-being of my son.”

Come Tuesday I will rejoice with Noam and Aviva Shalit that their son is home. I will also rejoice as I look up through the schach of my sukkah at the stars. I will remember that we are forever journeying. I will recall that Gilad’s return is but a way station and not the conclusion of the story.

The only destination is the messianic dream when the sukkot of earth are transformed into sukkat shalom, the sukkah of peace. This vision is spoken about and dreamed about in our prayers and even in the Byrd’s song, “Turn, Turn, Turn.” Until then we will be forever journeying. Until then take heart in the command to rejoice in this holiday!

Read the full article by Yossi Klein Halevi here.

Sukkot

2011-10-24T12:48:00.000-07:00

This evening begins the holiday of Sukkot, the week long celebration that commemorates our people’s wandering in the wilderness as well as the fall harvest.

Sukkot is observed in two primary ways. We build sukkot, temporary booths, and spend as much time as possible in them, eating in them and even sleeping in them. These sukkot must capture the temporary quality of our ancient dwelling places. No home was viewed as permanent. All were way stations on our millennial journey of return to the land of Israel. We must be able to view the stars and especially the bright, fall harvest moon through the roof’s lattice. This suggested the impermanence of our lives. Nothing is forever. The wind and rain can sometimes sting our faces. Life sometimes brings tears.

Second we take the lulav and etrog in our hands and wave them in six directions: east, south, west, north, up and down. We do so in remembrance of the Torah’s command: “…You shall take the product of hadar trees (etrog), branches of palm trees, boughs of myrtle trees, and willows of the brook, and you shall rejoice before the Lord your God seven days.” (Leviticus 23:40) It is entirely possible that this ritual was an ancient Jewish rain dance given that the rainy season begins in Israel at this time. Nonetheless we reinterpret its meaning and import. We celebrate that God is everywhere, a protecting shelter all around us. We affirm this by shaking these four species in six directions.

The lulav is constructed of one palm frond, two willow branches, and three myrtle twigs. It is taken together with the etrog, an oversized and sweet smelling lemon. The ancient rabbis offer this interpretation of these four species. The etrog has both taste and smell. It symbolizes people in our community who do both good deeds and study Torah. The palm has taste but no smell. It symbolizes people who perform good deeds but do not study Torah. The myrtle has smell but no taste. It represents people who study Torah but do not perform good deeds. And the willow has no smell and no taste. It represents people who do not study Torah and do not perform good deeds.

A community has all kinds of people. We hold all four species together in our hands. We are bound together. We can’t say, “I only want to be with people who take Torah seriously. I only want to be a part of group that does good deeds.” We can’t say as well, “I only want to be with people who are like me. I only want a group that looks and acts like me.”

A community has all kinds of people. Some are the closest of friends. Some feel distant. But we are only strong when we hold each other tight. We are only one when we are bound together like the disparate species of the lulav and etrog.

A community has all kinds of people. We need each other more than we care to admit.

Yom Kippur

2011-10-06T08:37:00.000-07:00

As we prepare for this holiest of Jewish holidays I often think of the Yom Kippur fast. To be honest denying ourselves food seems so un-Jewish. But this observance traces its origins to the Torah. “Mark, the tenth day of this seventh month is the Day of Atonement. It shall be a sacred occasion for you: you shall practice self-denial… you shall do no work throughout that day. For it is a Day of Atonement, on which expiation is made on your behalf before the Lord your God.” (Leviticus 23:26-28)

The ancient rabbis ask what is the meaning of this commandment of self-denial. Being rabbis they answered their own question and said that five enjoyments are forbidden on Yom Kippur. They ruled there is to be no eating or drinking, no wearing of leather shoes, no washing, no anointing with oils, and no sexual relations.

Again one might counter that taking pleasure in life is one of Judaism’s greatest teachings. We do not belong to an ascetic tradition. Monks are not our religious ideal. In fact another rabbinic statement suggests that in heaven we will be called to account for all the worldly enjoyments we denied ourselves.

Yet one day a year we are commanded to practice self-denial. We are commanded to become monks. All are instructed to leave the pleasures of this world and look within, toward the inner life. We leave aside our needs and pleasures and focus instead on our spiritual lives. We turn to God and more importantly turn to our friends and family seeking to make amends for past wrongs. But sometimes I wonder if the fast and this self-denial achieve their lofty goals. I don’t know about you but I can get pretty cranky when I don’t eat. And then whom do I snap at? Those closest to me—my family and friends.

Nonetheless on this one day a year, I don’t worry about what I need to cook for breakfast, lunch or dinner. I don’t try to squeeze in a Starbucks coffee in between the office and Hebrew School. I don’t think, “Maybe I can stop at Whole Foods for a quick, if over-priced, snack or 16 Handles for a frozen yogurt.” I think only about what is really most important: my relationship with family and friends. I dwell on my longings for God. I look within and see what I most wish to repair. No one is perfect. All can do better.

G’mar chatimah tovah—May you indeed be inscribed for life.

Rosh Hashanah

2011-10-06T08:36:00.001-07:00

These High Holidays are given to us so that we may renew our commitment to our tradition and to each other. We gather for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur as well so that we can rekindle our commitment to improving ourselves and our world. Let us gain inspiration from Elie Wiesel’s words as these tasks draw nearer. Wiesel writes:

I remember: as a child, on the other side of oceans and mountains, the Jew in me would anticipate Rosh Hashanah with fear and trembling.

He still does.

On that Day of Awe, I believed then, nations and individuals, Jewish and non-Jewish, are being judged by their common creator.

That is still my belief.

In spite of all that happened? Because of all that happened?

I still believe that to be Jewish today means what it meant yesterday and a thousand years ago. It means for the Jew in me to seek fulfillment both as a Jew and as a human being. For a Jew, Judaism and humanity must go together. To be Jewish today is to recognize that every person is created in the image of God and that our purpose in living is to be a reminder of God.

Naturally, I claim total kinship with my people and its destiny. Judaism integrates particularist aspirations with universal values, fervor with vigor, legend with law. Being Jewish to me is to reject all fanaticism anywhere.

To be Jewish is, above all, to safeguard memory and open its gates to the celebration of life as well as to the suffering, to the song of ecstasy as well as to the tears of distress that are our legacy as Jews. It is to rejoice in the renaissance of Jewish sovereignty in Israel and the reawakening of Jewish life in the former Soviet Union. It is to identify with the plight of Jews living under oppressive regimes and with the challenges facing our communities in free societies.

A Jew must be sensitive to the pain of all human beings. A Jew cannot remain indifferent to human suffering, whether in other countries or in our own cities and towns. The mission of the Jewish people has never been to make the world more Jewish, but to make it more human.

May we find ourselves ready for these efforts.

Shanah tovah u’metukah—A happy, sweet near year,

Nitzavim-Vayelekh

2011-10-06T08:35:00.000-07:00

A prayer for the High Holidays, as we approach this period of introspection and repentance. We recite this prayer at tashlich, when we gather and symbolically cast away our sins into the vastness of the sea.

Let us cast away the sin of deception, so that we will mislead no one in word or deed, nor pretend to be what we are not.

Let us cast away the sin of vain ambition which prompts us to strive for goals which bring neither true fulfillment nor genuine contentment.

Let us cast away the sin of stubbornness, so that we will neither persist in foolish habits nor fail to acknowledge our will to change.

Let us cast away the sin of envy, so that we will neither be consumed by desire for what we lack nor grow unmindful of the blessings which are already ours.

Let us cast away the sin of selfishness, which keeps us from enriching our lives through wider concerns, and greater sharing, and from reaching out in love to other human beings.

Let us cast away the sin of indifference, so that we may be sensitive to the sufferings of others and responsive to the needs of our people everywhere.

Let us cast away the sin of pride and arrogance, so that we can worship God and serve God’s purposes in humility and truth. (Mahzor Hadash)

Judaism counsels that actions and deeds define our lives. Good intentions do not redeem bad deeds. And bad intentions are dissolved by good deeds. Thus we can only correct our wrong actions. We can only repair misdeeds.

How many times do we instead discuss and debate intentions? Our tradition’s counsel is that they are irrelevant. Only deeds can be judged. If a person does good then he or she is deemed righteous. Intentions are known by God alone. What a person holds in his or her heart is the purview of the divine. It is not the province of human beings. Thus the High Holidays are devoted to repairing and correcting our actions. We spend these days focusing on what we might do different, not what we might intend. We resolve to cast away our wrongs and repair our lives.

The Torah portion declares: “Hidden acts concern the Lord our God; but revealed acts, it is for us and our children ever to apply all the words of this Torah.” (Deuteronomy 29:28)

Nitzavim-Vayelekh Sermon

2011-09-27T15:04:00.000-07:00

We are nearing the completion of the Torah. We read the words also read on Yom Kippurmorning in Reform shuls. “I make this covenant, with itssanctions, not with you alone, but both with those who are standing here withus this day before the Lord our God and with those who arenot with us here this day.” (Deuteronomy 29)

Thispassage is a remarkable statement that Torah is given in every generation. Torah must be forever renewed. It was not given only back then. It is given in each and every day, in eachand every generation. That is what wealso celebrate when we mark Simhat Torah. We renew our commitment to Torah as we begin the reading schedule again.

Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchevwas asked: Why does every tractate of Talmud begin on the second page? (The first page is not alef, but insteadbet.” He answered: “However much welearn, we should always remember that we have not even reached the first page.” The greatest lesson of Torah is that it isnever complete. We are always startingagain.

Very soon we will also of coursecelebrate Rosh Hashanah. This period marks the time of introspection andrepentance. This idea is connected to a versein this week’s Torah portion. “Hidden acts concern the Lord our God; butrevealed acts, it is for us and our children ever to apply all the words ofthis Torah.” (Deuteronomy 29)

Wespend a good deal of time arguing about people’s intentions. She didn’t mean it… He is only being nicebecause… Torah reminds us that when itcomes to intentions only God can know them. We instead must focus on actions and deeds. We can only judge people by what they do ordon’t do. Judaism does not for example believe that the act of tzedakahis tainted if someone gives for the wrong reason. Even if a gift is given to gain honor, or toget an end of year tax deduction, the gift is not negated. It still helps someone, or an institution, inneed. We can only judge the act oftzedakah not the intention with which it is given.

Wecan only judge ourselves even by what we do or don’t do. The High Holidays are thus about working todo better. We can’t just resolve to dobetter or promise to correct our mistakes. We have to make the effort to change.

Repentancein Hebrew is teshuvah. It is aboutturning. It is not a matter of theheart, it is a matter of the hands. Letus use these weeks wisely to turn and better our lives. To better ourselves. To correct our failings. And to repair our relationships.

Ki Tavo Sermon

2011-09-20T14:38:00.000-07:00

I have some questions about memorials as vehicles ofremembrance. The root of the word formemorial of course derives from memory. How effective are these memorials in facilitating our remembering?

We live in a culture cluttered with memorials. There are roadside memorials. There are cemeteries. There are the Gettysburg and Vietnam War memorials. There is now the 9-11 memorial.

A student shared these feelings about her recent visit tothis new memorial. “The waterfalls are awe-inspiring. This is kind of odd, especially juxtaposedagainst the tragedy that occurred there and also when you remember that you'rein the middle of such a bustling part of the city. I found there a sense of peace that issoul-quenching.”

In Jewish life there are countless memorials to theHolocaust. In Israel there are memorials to themany battles. These are scatteredthroughout the city of Jerusalem. And there are now a number of memorials toterrorist victims. I hurry by a numberof these as I walk through Jerusalem’sstreets. I don’t mean to bedisrespectful, but we are all these memorials helpful?

Our collective response to tragedy and death is to buildsomething. We build with such freneticimpulse that we appear to fear forgetting. In ancient times a gravestone was a pile of stones. And this is the origin of the custom to leavestones on a grave when visiting.

Given this human impulse you would think that the Torahwould command that we build a memorial to what Amalek did to the Israelites. The Amalekites of course attacked theIsraelites from the rear, and killed the weakest. Therefore the Torah is unflinching in itscommand to wipe out the Amalekites and their memory. But what of the memory of those who weremurdered?

That is not what the Torah tells us to build. Instead the command is to inscribe all thewords of the Torah on a stone. “As soonas you have crossed the Jordaninto the land that the Lord your God is giving you, you shall set up largestones. Coat them with plaster andinscribe upon them all the words of this Torah.” (Deuteronomy 27:2-3)

You could argue that all the words include the tragicstories, and certainly the command to remember Amalek and the details of whatthey did.

I don’t think this is the meaning. The monument that we are to first build is tothe Torah. We are to inscribe all theteachings—the entire Torah. God insiststhat once we cross the Jordanwe are not to look back at tragedy. We areonly to look ahead. We are only to lookforward to the laws and obligations of Torah.

It would be as if instead of the 9-11 memorial we thereinscribed the words of the Constitution and Bill of Rights. “Congress shall make no law respecting anestablishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; orabridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the peoplepeaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress ofgrievances.”

That of course is what our enemies sought to destroy. I wish for us to always remember these wordsof Torah, these sacred words. I wishinstead of beautiful and soothing, and even necessary, memorials we inscribedthe words that we will forever be most important to us and our country. It is those words that we must never forget. Giving life to these words and our Torah willforever be the greatest and most lasting memorials to those who weremurdered. It will the building that willcontinue to stand throughout the generations.

Ki Tavo

2011-09-16T08:15:00.001-07:00

I have been thinking about memorials. On Sunday we watched as the new 9-11 memorial was dedicated. I of course have not yet visited but I imagine it is a powerful testament to that terrible day. The structure appears appropriate and meaningful. New buildings were not constructed in place of the towers but instead these memorial fountains, etched with the names of those murdered. To build anything else in place of these ruins would be to suggest that we wish to erase memory.

Memorials offer us places to mourn and remember. As the people who experienced the tragedy grow older memorials become instead places to educate future generations. I have visited many memorials. It occurs to me that not one of them commemorates a natural disaster. All are built to memorialize the evils that human beings do to one another. I think in particular of the vast expanse of Gettysburg, the site of the largest battle in the Civil War, where nearly 8,000 were killed in that battle’s three days. The Vietnam War memorial, by contrast, is an endless wall of names rather than Gettysburg’s endless fields of grass and gravestones.

Often when walking through the streets of Jerusalem I stumble upon a simple stone etched with the names of those killed at the spot at which I find myself. At one I find the names of soldiers killed in the Six Day War’s battle for Jerusalem. At another I discover the names of victims murdered by terrorists at a bus stop. And at yet another spot I read the names of those murdered at Café Hillel on Jerusalem’s trendy Emek Refaim street. These stones are part of modern Jerusalem’s landscape. Most of the time I hurry by. I rarely notice the piles of stones, notes and even flowers that friends and loved ones leave. I have noticed that the more recent the event the greater these piles. As the years go by the stones, notes and flowers appear to diminish.

In some ways the Western Wall is also a memorial. It represents the surviving remnant of the destruction of Jerusalem and the murder of thousands upon thousands of its inhabitants. The scale of that destruction 2,000 years ago was a holocaust for its generation, and according to historical records even surpassing the tragedy of 9-11. We of course no longer view it as such. We recognize the stones as the remnant of our ancient Temple. And so there we come to remember the Temple and its glory. We come to connect to our people and our history. Do we also resolve never to forget the evils human beings commit against one another?

In this week’s Torah portion, Ki Tavo, Moses commands the people to build a memorial, but not to the evils that Amalek committed against the Israelites. Instead Moses charges the people with this command: “As soon as you have crossed the Jordan into the land that the Lord your God is giving you, you shall set up large stones. Coat them with plaster and inscribe upon them all the words of this Torah.” (Deuteronomy 27:2-3) The first thing that the people must do upon entering the land is to write the words of the Torah for all to see. It is the words of Torah that serve as testimony. We are also commanded never to forget Amalek and the atrocities his people did as we journeyed through the wilderness. But it is not those evils in particular that are inscribed in stone. It is instead the words of Torah in their entirety.

Abraham Lincoln said at Gettysburg. “…In a larger sense, we can not dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground… It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

This too is the Torah that we must inscribe on each and every stone that we erect as memorials.

September 11 Sermon

2011-09-11T17:02:00.000-07:00

I have many feelings and thoughts as we mark this tenth anniversary of 9-11. They are mostly feelings of pain and loss. I continue to believe that things will never be the same. I also carry with me the searing memory of driving my children home from school after having to pick them up early. As I drove on the LIE I kept looking in the rear view mirror at their faces. I continue to hear their questions, “Abba, what happened? I don’t understand. Someone drove a plane into a building?” I hear as well my inadequate answers. Ten years later here are my still, partial answers.

I wish to address three points. 1. About our enemies. 2. The proper response to our enemies. And 3. Our lingering, incomplete feelings.

1. Let’s say this clearly. We indeed have enemies. This truth seems to evade us. We still appear unwilling to speak these words. There are people who are bent on our destruction. And they are Islamic fundamentalists.

We are so afraid of offending or being labeled politically incorrect that we shy away from this awful truth. I have no quarrel with Islam. We should have no quarrel with Islam. We should however have quarrel with the far too many Muslims who stand silent before what their co-religionists do in their name, and the countless Muslims who celebrate these murders committed in their tradition’s name.

We are as well unable to say loudly how many of our so-called allies support these enemies of ours. Our continued dependence on Mideast oil defames the memory of 9-11. Say what you will about the science of global warming, although I find the evidence inescapable, but it should be a matter of national security that we wean ourselves of oil.

2. In the course of these past ten years we have also lost our way in fighting our enemies. We have resorted to torture. We have shipped suspects to Libya and Syria so that they might be tortured outside of the protections of our democracy. We have contorted our most cherished laws in the name of security. We cannot, we must not ever lose our way again. Terror and fear are insidious. But they need not make us into cowards who forget what makes us really great. It is not shopping! It is democracy.

Terror and fear worm their way into our hearts and souls. They distort our vision. We must always see clearly what this country means. We must always proudly declare the values our country stands for. Moreover we should celebrate exactly what our enemies most hate because it is these very values that have made this nation great.

We live in a country that revels in difference, that is moreover strengthened by difference. We are an overwhelmingly religious people, but never a people where one religion must be chosen over another. The fact that our congregation meets and prays in a church, as frustrating as it might continue to be at times, is cause for celebration on this day.

Our enemies want a world that is only like them, that is absent of Jews and Christians and homosexuals, a world where women are veiled and science is labeled as blasphemy. I want none of that. I want a world where science and religion can learn from each other, where differences are celebrated and cause for new learning. Ten years later my resolve is only stronger. I pray, let my resolve never grow weaker. Let terror and fear never find their way into my soul.

And finally 3. For this point let us return to the Torah portion. I am thinking again about the bird’s nest. We are commanded to shoo the mother bird away before taking the young. We cannot have everything. Even that which is permitted must be regulated. Our freedoms are always framed by compassion. That is the plain meaning of the Torah’s command.

But I am thinking as well about the bird’s nest as a metaphor. Hatchlings are of course blind. They are hidden and shielded from the dangers of the world by their parents. It seems obvious but let’s be clear. Staying in their nest these young birds will never learn to fly. When they fly they may very well succumb to other, greater dangers.

We have learned from 9-11 that staying in the nest does not shield us from all harm. Many died, many were murdered, for the simple act of going to work or walking down the street, or going on vacation, or getting a cup of coffee.

Leon Wieseltier writes: “… Shopping is not the highest expression of the will to live. We are fighting wars abroad that show almost no traces at home, except among the limited segment of the population whose children are fighting them, and we have been differently encouraged in this disconnection by George W. Bush and Barack Obama. When the financial cataclysm occurred, and the hardship in America became unconscionably widespread, we redirected our gaze almost entirely upon ourselves. First materialism, and then a crisis of materialism, turned us inward. After we were attacked, we were wearied. I worry that the insularity of America, which is its natural condition, and also its lasting temptation, is gathering a renewed prestige among Americans. Our insularity is a kind of safety and a kind of blindness. The attacks of September 11 punctured that safety and that blindness: we gained—at what cost!—a broader sense of historical possibility and a broader sense of historical agency. But we are listing. We want the safety back, of course, but I fear that we want the blindness back, too.” (The New Republic, September 15, 2011)

So we can choose to be blind like the hatchlings in this bird’s nest. Or we can choose to fly. 9-11 should have taught us that blindness is no safer than flying. Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote about the insecurity of freedom in his book of the same name. He taught that there is an inherent insecurity in the blessing of freedom. The more freedom, the more insecurity. The more freedoms, the greater responsibilities.

I continue to believe that the greatest danger of terrorism is not external but internal. We can let it seep into our hearts or we can shut it out and continue flying. Insularity will not protect us. It serves no noble purpose. And those purposes are all I am really interested in.

The message of this week’s Torah portion is even more true on this tenth anniversary of 9-11. The concern of our tradition is improving our world. We begin with the small and seemingly insignificant. We begin with a bird’s nest. And from there reach out to the world at large.

No nest is forever safe. And so my only choice is to reach out to the world, and to struggle to better and improve the world. My life is made better, and yes more assured and even more secure, by my reaching to the world. And that is the only response we should focus on.

More on September 11

2011-09-10T17:24:00.000-07:00

On Thursday, Leon Wieseltier, Literary Editor of The New Republic, said the following at a 9-11 commemoration at Washington DC's Kennedy Center.

Though we encounter it as suffering, grief is in fact an affirmation. The indifferent do not grieve, the uncommitted do not grieve, the loveless do not grieve. We mourn only the loss of what we have loved and what we have valued, and in this way mourning darkly refreshes our knowledge of the causes of our loves and the reasons for our values. Our sorrow restores us to the splendors of our connectedness to people and to principles. It is the yes of a broken heart. In our bereavement we discover how much was ruptured by death, and also how much was not ruptured. These tears lead directly to introspection.

Here is what we affirmed by our mourning on September 11, 2001, and by the introspection of its aftermath:

that we wish to be known, to ourselves and to the world, by the liberty that we offer, axiomatically, as a matter of right, to the individuals and the groups with whom we live;

that the ordinary lives of ordinary people on an ordinary day of work and play can truthfully exemplify that liberty, and fully represent what we stand for;

that we will defend ourselves, resolutely and even ferociously, because self-defense is also an ethical responsibility, and that our debates about the proper use of our power in our own defense should not be construed as an infirmity in our will;

that the multiplicity of cultures and traditions that we contain peaceably in our society is one of our highest accomplishments, because we are not afraid of difference, and because we do not confuse openness with emptiness, or unity with conformity;

that a country as vast and as various as ours may still be experienced as a community;

that none of our worldviews, with God or without God, should ever become the worldview of the state, and that no sanctity ever attaches to violence;

that the materialism and the self-absorption of the way we live has not extinguished our awareness of a larger purpose, even if sometimes they have obscured it;

that we believe in progress, at home and abroad, in social progress, in moral progress, even when it is fitful and contested and difficult;

that just as we have enemies in the world we have friends, and that our friends are the individuals and the movements and the societies that aspire, often in circumstances of great adversity, to democracy and to decency.

It has been a wounding decade. Our country is frayed, uncertain, inflamed. There is hardship and dread in the land. In significant ways we are a people in need of renovation. But what rouses the mourner from his sorrow is his sense of possibility, his confidence in the intactness of the spirit, his recognition that there is work to be done. What we loved and what we valued has survived the disaster, but it needs to be secured and bettered, and in that secure and better condition transmitted to our children. Our dream of greatness must be accompanied by an understanding of what is required for the maintenance of greatness. The obscenities of September 11, 2001 exposed the difference between builders and destroyers. We are builders. Let us agree, on this anniversary, that it is an honor to be an American and it is an honor to be free.

Little else needs to be said.

Shoftim Sermon

2011-09-07T13:10:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is about appointing judges and establishing courts. It contains the famous verse: “Justice, justice you shall pursue…” I have been thinking about how we approach the pursuit of justice.

We are commanded by our tradition to pursue justice and to pursue peace. We often confuse these two values. We apply justice when we should apply peace.

Societies of course are to be built on justice. Families by contrast are built on peace. Yet we speak about injustice when it comes to family members. You wouldn’t believe what uncle so and so did. How many families sever ties over such perceived injustices?

When it comes to families however we should be talking about peace and not justice. Both notions have to be pursued. It is an interesting word choice. To pursue is to run after. You can’t wait for justice or peace to come to you.

There is a related value to justice. In order to pursue justice you must run after truth. Societies must be built on truth. Forgive my venture into politics, but our politicians seem unable to speak truths anymore. Both Democrats and Republicans refuse to speak honestly and forthrightly about the problems we face. They do not speak truths. Our problems are not going to fix themselves. There are the problems of global warming, joblessness, and poverty to name a few. Yet we appear unable to speak honestly about the problems facing our country.

But when it comes to family and friends there are no shortages of truth. You can hear all of the sordid details of what this family member did to that or this friend did to another. Whereas societies must be built on truth and justice families must be built on forgiveness and peace. You can’t have peace without a lot of forgiveness

I wish we could get it right. Families could certainly use more forgiveness and even forgetfulness. Our society requires more truth and even righteous indignation. We need justice for our country not for our families. We need to speak loudly about the problems facing our country and turn a blind eye to the mistakes we see in our families.

It is not easy to bring justice or peace. That is why our tradition says we must pursue these values. So let’s get out there and try to fix things in our broken country. And let’s get out there and heal things in our far too judgmental families.

Is it mere coincidence that Friday's sermon touched on the same theme as Tom Friedman's New York Times column? Yes. Then again perhaps it is indeed because we need more truth-telling!

September 11

2011-09-07T11:39:00.000-07:00

It was a beautiful August morning. The temperature was a comfortable 70 degrees. I was riding along Asharoken Avenue towards Eatons Neck. My legs felt strong and I was setting a fast pace, despite the gusting head wind. The dune grass blew in the breeze. The waves on the Sound lapped at the expanse of sand. I was riding on my favorite flat, a road that extends for miles along the shoreline. I looked up and saw a blue sky, absent of clouds. It was a perfect morning. I could focus on my riding. I could contemplate the beauty of this moment.

It was almost as if it was an early fall morning. The blue sky was nearly as deep and blue as that of a September day. And then it happened. The perfect blue sky reminded me not of the grandeur of God’s creation but instead of a morning nearly ten years earlier, the morning of September 11. The perfect moment was stolen. Memories of that terror stricken day filled my thoughts. I was taken back to another day, one that began with blue skies and the grandeur of God’s tapestry, but ended in darkness and clouds of smoke and ash.

Ten years ago, on what began as a perfect fall morning, I was driving to my office. I looked to the sky and thought to myself, what an extraordinary day. There were no clouds, only the deep blue sky of an early fall day. I silently offered praise to God for this beautiful creation. And then I turned on the radio to hear reports of the first plane striking the North Tower. Soon I would be driving East on the LIE after collecting my children from school, looking at the empty West bound lanes, save the occasional emergency vehicle careening towards the city, as signs flashed “New York City Closed.”

I lost no family member or friend on that day, not even a member of the synagogue I still proudly serve; yet I remain wounded. Ten years later time moves forward. Eight year olds become eighteen year olds heading to their first semester in college. And time moves backward. Even the sky stands as a silent reminder of that day. Ten years later moments are too often stolen. Terror still finds its way into my soul. A perfect blue sky and a favorite morning bike ride turns into the drive back to our house ten years earlier and my feeble attempts to explain to my then eight year old and five year old what happened to our city. As I drove my children home I knew that the world they were born into had been forever changed. Ten years later I still did not know how.

Every sky would be tinged with that day, every moment would be tempered. Judaism counsels that even at the happiest of occasions, a wedding, we break a glass before adjourning for hours of dancing and celebration. It is taught that we do this in remembrance of the ancient tragedy of the Temple’s destruction. In the midst of great happiness we pause, if only briefly, to remember the tragedy that changed our people forever. With that cataclysmic act we were transformed from a people whose lives revolved around one Temple to a people spread out and oriented towards many temples. Thousands of years later we know what that destruction fashioned. It helped to create a people devoted to prayer rather than sacrifices, Torah study rather than pilgrimages, ordinary acts of lovingkindness rather than priestly rites. Thousands of years later the memory of that searing day is distant, but its import is clear.

Ten years later the memory of September 11 is clear, but its meaning is still unimaginable. Ten years later we do not know yet if we should, or even can, break a glass. We have not yet figured out what this day might mean. But we have come to understand the following. The best of moments are still unexpectedly stolen and transformed into moments of sadness and pain. Ten years later even blue skies can become darkened by memories.

Nonetheless on my return, still riding on Asharoken Avenue, the wind was now at my back and the joy of riding into the future found its way back into my heart.

Shoftim

2011-09-03T18:14:00.000-07:00

We live in a world where people often scream about injustice, but rarely take action to correct such failings. The injustices we most often speak about are those that involve people closest to us. We complain about this friend or that. We criticize this family member or another. Rarely do we seek to make amends and make peace.

This week’s Torah portion focuses on justice. In addition to legislating how judges should be appointed, it contains the famous verse: “Justice, justice you shall pursue, that you may thrive and occupy the land that the Lord your God is giving you.” (Deuteronomy 16:20)

We hear this call for justice, but we misapply its message to friends and family. Instead we need to spend more time pursuing justice for our society. Our country faces many problems. There is a growing inequity between rich and poor. On our very own Long Island there are far too many homeless and hungry. The Interfaith Nutrition Network, for example, serves over 300,000 meals per year. There are as well far too many without adequate jobs. We must create more employment opportunities. We need to work to repair the many problems in our broken society.

This is the Torah’s demand. We must pursue justice for the sake of our country. But rather than working to fix these problems we level the charge of injustice against family members and friends. With regard to those closest to us we are instead commanded to pursue peace. According to our tradition Aaron best exemplifies peace making. Why? The Israelites clamored to build a Golden Calf when their leader Moses was busy on the mountaintop communing with God. Aaron was left in charge. He did not as one might expect talk them out of their unholy task. Instead he appears to have helped them. Aaron facilitated the building of the calf. The Torah’s judgment of his actions is harsh.

The rabbis, however, see in Aaron a model of peace making. Their suggestion is extraordinary. Even when family members are straying, or in this case building idols, we are to be like the disciples of Aaron, and make peace. Thus when it comes to family shalom, peace, is the greatest virtue. When it comes to the larger society the greatest value is tzedek, justice. We often confuse which value is to lead the way.

Pursue justice for the society. Pursue peace for family and friends. As the High Holidays approach I pledge to seek justice for our society, and make peace among my friends and family.

Elul

2011-09-03T18:11:00.000-07:00

Today (August 30th) begins the Hebrew month of Elul. According to Jewish tradition this day begins a forty day period of introspection and repentance that concludes with the beautiful Yom Kippur Neilah service.

We belong to a remarkable tradition. We believe that human beings are capable of change. We believe that we have the capacity to mend our ways. No one is perfect. All have erred. Let us take these precious days to mend our failures. This is the grand purpose of the upcoming High Holidays. Rosh Hashanah begins the evening of September 28^th.

A Hasidic story. Reb Chaim Halberstam of Zanz once helped his disciples prepare for Elul and its goals of teshuvah (repentance) and tikkun (repair) by sharing the following story.

Once a woman became lost in a dense forest. She wandered this way and that in the hope of stumbling on a way out, but she only got more lost as the hours went by. Then she chanced upon another person walking in the woods. Hoping that he might know the way out, she said, “Can you tell me which path leads out of this forest?”

“I am sorry, but I cannot,” the man said. “I am quite lost myself.”

“You have wandered in one part of the woods,” the woman said, “while I have been lost in another. Together we may not know the way out, but we know quite a few paths that lead nowhere. Let us share what we know of the paths that fail, and then together we may find the one that succeeds.”

“What is true for these lost wanderers,” Reb Chaim said, “is true of us as well. We may not know the way out, but let us share with each other the way that have only led us back in.” (Rabbi Rami Shapiro, Hasidic Tales)

Together we are always stronger. Together we can find ourselves out of any difficulty and surmount any stumbling blocks.

Reeh

2011-08-25T13:06:00.001-07:00

Parents tell their teenagers, “You can’t be buried in a Jewish cemetery if you get a tattoo.” This often repeated tale is meant to dissuade young adults from following the example of their peers and engraving a tattoo on their bodies. To be honest, the tale is not true.

Tattooing is of course contrary to Jewish tradition, but it would not by itself constitute a reason for the denial of burial rites. Perhaps people suggest it would do so because it is a visible sign, even following death, that the person was not observant of Jewish law. But some people observe many Jewish traditions. Others observe few. The denial of burial for any person would show a supreme lack of compassion in the face of tragedy.

Interestingly the biblical verses prohibiting tattooing connect tattooing to mourning rituals. Our Torah portion states: “You are the children of the Lord your God. You shall not gash yourselves or shave the front of your heads because of the dead. For you are a people consecrated to the Lord your God; the Lord your God chose you from among all other peoples on earth to be His treasured people.” (Deuteronomy 14:1-2)

Apparently in ancient times tattooing was associated with mourning. According to biblical scholars removing of hair and gashing the flesh until blood runs were common mourning rituals. People believed that these acts had an effect on the ghost of the deceased. Or perhaps these acts were performed as self-punishment to assuage feelings of guilt. Judaism however counsels that we tear our garment rather than our flesh. In addition Jewish custom advises men to refrain from shaving when mourning. We are commanded to do the opposite of what our neighbors do.

I understand that tattooing for the dead is a powerful emotional response to grief. People inscribe a name or a symbol on their body as a sign of mourning. It is especially common among soldiers. It is an understandable impulse. Mourners promise themselves that they will never forget, that they must never forget. Inscribing the memory on their bodies fulfills this impulse. It as if to say, “Now I will always remember.” Judaism insists however that memories must be built on stories and words.

Again and again the Torah seeks to distinguish its traditions from those of Israel’s neighbors. Tattooing was viewed as something connected with idolatry. Moreover the Jewish tradition believes that the human body is created in God’s image. We are to care for the body because it is a reflection of the divine. We therefore do not defame the body in any way. The Talmud rules that we are therefore forbidden to inscribe a permanent tattoo on the body, although there is some debate as to whether or not the prohibition only applies to a tattoo with God’s name.

I often think that in addition to the tradition’s reasons we should give weight to modern Jewish history. During the Holocaust Jews were of course forcibly tattooed with numbers. We should therefore not choose to do this to ourselves. This is what our enemies did to us. Let us not do the same.

Parents can of course resort to tales of denying burial rites in order to convince children to obey this prohibition, but I prefer making arguments based on modern Jewish history and the Jewish value that the human body is a reflection of the divine. Of course teenagers being teenagers they may very well not listen to such logic. Their desire is to be like their peers. The Torah wants us to be unlike our neighbors.

Of course in the end the primary job of parents is to love their children.

Ekev

2011-08-18T13:08:00.000-07:00

According to rabbinic legend a fetus knows the entire Torah when in the womb. When the fetus is born, however, an angel kisses the baby on the lip, producing the recognized indentation, and the child forgets everything. Now this child must spend a lifetime learning Torah. It is a curious legend. The rabbis imagined that we begin life knowing everything but then forget.

Years ago as my grandmother withered away in a nursing home, we watched her mind become increasingly vacant. Her body remained strong years beyond her mind’s forgetfulness. On the day that we brought her great granddaughter for a visit she attempted to bite her. The adult had became the infant. My young daughter looked at me with questioning eyes. I remember especially the early years of Nana’s dementia. She understood that she was forgetting more and more. In fact when she learned that she would soon become a great grandmother she remarked, “What good will that be if I don’t have my mind.” She knew that her dementia was growing increasingly worse. There grew a terror in her eyes. And then she forgot everything.

For our Jewish tradition forgetting is a cardinal sin. We are commanded again and again to remember: zakhor. In this week’s portion, Ekev, Moses admonishes the people: “Remember the long way that the Lord your God has made you travel in the wilderness these past forty years, that He might test you by hardships to learn what was in your hearts: whether you would keep His commandments or not.” (Deuteronomy 8:2) We must remember our history, the successes and failures, but especially the trials.

My son Ari recently returned from a youth trip to Israel, Prague and Poland. In Poland he visited the Warsaw ghetto and Auschwitz. I was overwhelmed looking at his pictures. Only from Ari did I come to appreciate the vast expanse of Auschwitz. There was photograph after photograph. There was this angle and yet another. I had never before appreciated the vastness of the Auschwitz complex, so many buildings built only for the purpose of murder and the destruction of my people. I have of course read many books and visited many museums. I have looked at many photographs in these museums and books. But only through my son’s eyes was able to comprehend that there are miles and miles of Auschwitz-Birkenau.

Remembering is not instinctive. Memories must be inculcated. One can learn from others. But remembrance is best achieved by experience. The great historian Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi argues that Judaism believes forgetfulness is terrifying. Zakhor, remember, we are commanded. We must always remember the long way we have travelled. To forget is to be that newborn infant, although touched by an angel, just beginning a lifetime of rediscovering and relearning.

We are the Jewish people because we remember. Our future is dependent on hearing this command and regaining this terror of forgetting. Perhaps this feeling will help us to learn more, to experience more. I forever see it in my grandmother’s eyes. May the forgetfulness of her later years be my inspiration. May my lips never again be touched by an angel.

Vaetchanan

2011-08-11T13:23:00.001-07:00

Every year I study a selected text with parents of upcoming b’nai mitzvah. As many of you know this year I shared a selection from this week’s portion, the V’ahavta. “And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your might. Take to heart these instructions which I charge you this day... (Deuteronomy 6:4-9)

In particular I explored the meaning of the line: v’shinantam l’vanecha--and you shall teach them to your children. On the surface the meaning of this verse seems obvious. Parents are obligated to teach their children everything, in particular Torah. They are commanded to teach their children about their Jewish heritage. They are instructed to teach their children values.

In Hebrew there is a common word for teach, m’lamed. Here the Torah uses the word, shinantam. This word derives its meaning from the Hebrew, to repeat. Why would the Torah use the word, repeat? I asked parents this question “Why would the Torah command that we repeat these words to our children?” Are we to say the words of the V’ahavta over and over again to our children, and even grandchildren?

As a parent I am certain that lessons will most certainly go unheard the moment I have to repeat them over and over again to my children. I say over and over again, “Do your homework. Clean your room. Call your grandparents.” These admonitions are greeted with nonchalance and more often than not go unheeded. Over the years I have learned that my worst parenting moments are when I resort to repeating myself. In that moment I am the only one who is listening to my words.

Then what could the Torah intend? If repetition is the worst teaching method then what could this unusual word choice mean? The Torah can not be wrong. An insight must be hidden in its words. This is what I have determined. The best lessons are those that our children see us do repeatedly. Those actions that they see us do are the best Torah we can offer our children. This is what will prove most lasting.

This is what the Torah means by its words, “Repeat them to your children.” The best teaching is what our children see us do, over and over again. If you want your children to be generous, give tzedakah. If you want your children to be learned, then let them see you read and even take classes. If you want your children to be committed to their health then let them see you exercise. If you want them to find Judaism meaningful then bring Judaism into your own lives.

Over and over, again and again, this is what our children must see us do. They discern what is most important by observing what we do. “V’shinantam l’vanecha!”

I look forward to sharing a new text with the upcoming parents of our b’nai mitzvah class of 5772!

Devarim

2011-08-04T18:18:00.000-07:00

For some time after the start of text messaging between father and daughter I believed “LOL” meant “Lots Of Love” rather than “Laugh Out Loud.” To my mind “Lots Of Love” made far more sense. And so in this age of abbreviated slang I find myself lost and out of touch with my daughter. Perhaps that is part of the purpose. Youth always develop words and sayings that cast the older generation outside. Parents struggle to understand their children.

This week’s Torah portion is the first portion in the last book of the Torah, Devarim. It opens with the following statement: “These are the words (devarim) that Moses addressed to all Israel on the other side of the Jordan…” (Deuteronomy 1:1) The setting for this final book is Moses’ last speech to the people. Moses is getting old and is about to die. The mantle of leadership will soon be handed over to Joshua. The people are about to enter the land of Israel.

The generation who was enslaved in Egypt has died in the wilderness. Moses’ audience is now the new generation, those people born in freedom. They are the youthful generation who has only known the wilderness and its freedoms. Moses retells the history of their people, the Jewish people. He recounts their successes and failures. He reminds the youth of their obligations and enumerates the laws given in the Torah’s prior books.

Moses reiterates these commandments—at least least that is how Deuteronomy couches his words. Yet of the hundred laws detailed in the Book of Deuteronomy only thirty are found in the Torah’s prior books. Why would Moses frame his words as though they were not new? Why would he think it better to cast new ideas in old garments?

In so doing Moses suggests that this situation in fact requires nothing new. It has been seen and heard before, he believes. But this young generation will live in its own land. They will no longer wander. The generation reared only in freedom, the generation who knew only the vastness of wandering the wilderness, will indeed require many new laws to live their lives in a sovereign land.

Moses believes that the new must be informed by the old. Still Moses struggles to communicate this truth with the youth. In every age we struggle to communicate, to teach, to impart to the younger generation. This very tension exists in our own day, in each of our homes, in each of our lives.

This was part of Larry David’s point in the recent “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” Texting slang is not meant for grown ups. It is meant only for the youth who coin its words. Parents sound like tourists struggling to communicate in the country’s native language. It is as if we are not supposed to speak our children’s language. They of course believe that we can never be informed, native speakers. They think, theirs is the language of the freedoms of wilderness. Ours are the words of enslavement, of obligations and laws.

I am left with more questions. How can we communicate the truths that we learned through our own years of struggle and wandering? How can we beseech our children to abide by what we know to be important? I still believe that even the newest situation and circumstance can be informed by the old. How can the generations speak to each other? In Deuteronomy we witness Moses offering poems, to cajole his followers as well as losing his temper, struggling and stammering, to communicate essential truths with the future generation.

And there the problem of communicating between the generations becomes most apparent. The elders either sound like foreigners in their own native land, stammering to speak the words of a future generation or angry, unheeded outcasts, who appear to stubbornly cling to the past. I wish it were as simple as saying with Moses’ concluding words, “Remember the days of old. Consider the years of ages past. Ask your [parents], they will inform you. Your elders, they will tell you…” (Deuteronomy 32:7)

But the reader forgets. We do not know if the Israelite youth listened. Such is the framework for the Book of Deuteronomy.

This is as well the framework of our lives and our goals as parents and teachers. LYA!

Masei

2011-07-28T13:03:00.000-07:00

The news is filled with murder and violence. Our city recently witnessed the grotesque murder of an eight year old Hasidic boy. Last week Norway was savaged by mass murder. Yesterday in Iraq twelve were murdered in a double bombing outside a bank. Against these painful images we recently watched as Casey Anthony was acquitted of the murder of her baby daughter.

Such killing is not new to society. The Torah offers great detail about how to approach murder and killing. In fact this week’s Torah portion, Masei, suggests several important details. Premeditated murder for example is a capital crime punishable by death.

Intent is determined by the weapon used. “Anyone who strikes another with an iron object so that death results is a murderer.” Anger and hatred as well suggests premeditation. “So, too, if he pushed him in hate or hurled something at him on purpose and death resulted…” (Numbers 35:16-21) However two witnesses must publicly testify against the accused in order to exact the punishment of death. The Torah’s concern is twofold. Its foremost concern is not first of all punishment but justice.

It is also concerned that the land not become defiled by murder. The ancients (perhaps we would do well to find meaning in their idea) believed that God’s presence cannot dwell in a land contaminated by murder. Illustrating this point is the law of cities of refuge. If a person accidentally killed another he may run to a city of refuge. There he could find sanctuary preventing the family member of the killed from seeking vengeance. “You shall provide yourselves with places to serve you as cities of refuge to which a manslayer who has killed a person unintentionally may flee. The cities shall serve you as a refuge from the avenger, so that the manslayer may not die unless he has stood trial before the assembly.” (Numbers 35-9-12)

It is a fascinating law. Apparently the establishment of these cities helped to maintain the holiness of the land. The land would therefore not be defiled twice over, by the spilling of blood in vengeance in addition to the blood of the killed. Most important the cities of refuge allow justice to be served. Anger and vengeance must never rule our decisions—even and perhaps especially in the case of murder. Today, we are understandably angry and desire punishment.

Yet justice must be given time. Although murderers act in anger we must not do the same. There is the danger that in the pursuit of justice we may become as well murderers if we are not careful and deliberate. Only time can guarantee that we do not also become guilty. The cities of refuge seek to establish this balance. They allow for the gathering of information. They allow for deliberate thought. They allow for justice to emerge.

Yet today I feel as if justified anger overwhelms my concern for justice. The Hasidic Gerrer Rebbe (1799-1866) responds. “In theory, a person who killed another, even if only through negligence, does not deserve a place anywhere, because a person who killed has no place in God’s world. That is why special places had to be set aside where killers could remain.”

In theory there should be no place on earth for someone who takes another life. All human beings are created in the divine image. The Talmud reminds us: “To destroy a life is to destroy a world.” Even a city a refuge therefore seems an unjust refuge.

And so I am left with only one simple prayer. May there come a day, even one day, and then perhaps many days, when we no longer read of violence and murder.

Mattot

2011-07-21T09:51:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Mattot and begins with a discussion about vows and promises. “If a man makes a vow to the Lord or takes an oath imposing an obligation on himself, he shall not break his pledge; he must carry out all that has crossed his lips.” (Numbers 30:3) It should be noted that the Torah offers different laws about the vows made by women. I, however, read the opening verse as applying to both men and women.

Often we pledge to go on diets, exercise more, perhaps study more Torah, not yell at our children (or parents), or reconnect with friends. We have the best of intentions when we make these vows, yet we often find it difficult to fulfill these promises beyond their initial days or weeks. The summer is filled with the best of intended promises. We hear such words, “I have more time now so I will finally read that book I have sitting on my shelf.”

At the wedding ceremonies that fill the summer months, couples recite ancient vows affirming their newly claimed love. But how do they sustain the passion of that first moment throughout the years? How do we remain true to our words throughout the many trials and challenges that follow?

An eighteenth century Hasidic rabbi, Tzvi Hirsch, the Maggid of Voydislav, responds: “If a man makes a vow he will certainly not break his word, but merely keeping his word is not enough. He is commanded: ‘He must carry out all that has crossed his lips’—that he must fulfill the vow with same fervor as at the time that he took the vow. In most cases, when a person makes a vow he do so in a flush of enthusiasm, whereas the fulfillment of that vow is done without passion, as if he is forced to do so. The Torah therefore stresses: ‘You shall do—as you vowed.’"

This is the critical observation. We passionately affirm, “I promise to…” Yet when we go to fulfill such promises it feels as if our enthusiasm has been drained. It is all about obligation and no longer about celebration. It is easy to make promises—perhaps far too easy. But how do we hold ourselves to the words we speak? How do we guarantee the passion with which we first spoke the words will accompany the fulfillment of the promise? How do we fulfill our vows with enthusiasm and vigor?

Sometimes married couples ask me to perform a renewal of vows. To be honest it is my favorite ceremony at which to officiate. When a husband and wife, after being married for some fifty years, kiss again it confirms the insight of the great Hasidic master. Wedding celebrations are of course beautiful and grand. They are about the future and all its potential. They are about promises for the future.

A renewal of vows by contrast is about the fulfillment of those promises. Such ceremonies are the realization that we can indeed spend years filling our youthful promises with devotion and enthusiasm. May we find the passion to carry our vows through many years. May we discover the commitment to see many of our promises to fruition.

Pinhas

2011-07-15T09:02:00.000-07:00

As people ascend to the main exhibition halls in the newly renovated Israel Museum they walk alongside water cascading down a constructed rivulet. James Snyder, the museum’s director, explained its symbolism to the group of rabbis. The water cleanses. We enter the exhibitions with unencumbered souls. Water washes away whatever we bring in and we enter the museum with open minds.

In ancient times sacrifices were offered on the heights of the Temple. On Sukkot especially the sacrifices reached their zenith. This week’s Torah portion offers details of the Sukkot sacrifices. 70 bulls were slaughtered on the altar, in addition to 14 rams, 98 lambs and seven goats. It was a bloody week long celebration. At the conclusion of Sukkot was the long since forgotten holiday of Simhat Beit HaShoeva, the water drawing celebration. Copious amounts of water were poured over the Temple and its altar.

In a land where water is so scarce it is remarkable to reflect on the central ritual of this holiday. At the conclusion of the dry season and prior to the beginning of the winter rains water is dumped as if it were a plentiful commodity. My teacher and the chair of Hebrew University’s Bible Department, Yisrael Knohl, offers two possible explanations. There was the practical and the philosophical. On the one hand this much water was required to clean the Temple. After so many sacrifices the Temple required a thorough washing. On the other hand what could be a better statement of faith than to dump out water before the winter rains (hopefully) began. It was if our people said, “God, we firmly believe that You will soon provide water for our crops and our rituals.”

It is interesting to ponder the fact that whereas water figured so prominently in ancient times, and in this land of Israel, it is no longer prominent in our rituals, especially in Reform circles. In traditional homes the mikvah, the ritual bath is still observed as well as netilat yadayim, the ritual washing of hands before eating. We by contrast only add the prayer for rain to our liturgy, beginning at the conclusion of Sukkot. This additional line connects us to the seasons of the land of Israel. Is this single line enough?

This past week I hiked the streets of Jerusalem and the Old City. In short order I was reminded of the necessity of always bringing plenty of water to withstand Jerusalem’s summer heat. I longed for abundant water. It occurred to me that it is no wonder that here water became central to our rituals. It is unfortunate that we take water for granted and no longer give such prominence to its preciousness. We drink it, bathe in it, play in it, but no longer pray with it. Perhaps if we restored the centrality of the land of Israel to our philosophy we would regain the importance of water to our ritual life. Then again perhaps if we restored the importance of water to our rituals we would rekindle the importance of the land of Israel to our faith.

Yet it is hard to appreciate water living in an area where it is sometimes too abundant. It is true that our tradition assigns no blessing over the drinking of water. It is used in blessings, but we recite no blessing over it as we do with other foods and drinks. There is no blessing because it is a blessing. And here in Israel one appreciates better the blessing of mayyim hayyim, living waters.

According to the Talmud one has not experienced true joy until one celebrates Simhat Beit HaShoeva. What faith it is indeed to pour water over every inch of the Temple precinct at the hoped for onset of the rainy season. So with our ancestors let us dance and celebrate that God will again provide for us these living waters. And let us as well regain a better appreciation of mayyim hayyim. Let us reclaim the centrality of the land of Israel and its city of Jerusalem.

Let us open our minds to the power of water and the beauty of Israel.

The West Bank

2011-07-12T00:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we boarded buses and set out for a most interesting tour about the landscape and topography of a future peace agreement.

We first met with Danny Siedemann, a lawyer and leading proponent of the Israeli peace camp, who argued that any peace agreement begins and ends where we stood in East Jerusalem's Sheikh Jarrah. Despite the neighborhood's overwhelmingly Arab character in recent years Jews have moved into a number of homes and established a Jewish enclave there. They have made the grave of Shimon HaTzaddik into a Jewish pilgrimage site. In Danny's view if such "settlements" are allowed to continue it will destroy any hope of a two-state solution, by eliminating the possibility of Palestinian contiguity.

A divided land represents the only hope for peace. It is ugly but it is the reality of this place and promises the best future. Two nations for two peoples.

From this overlook we traveled to the West Bank community (settlement) of Beit Aryeh. It is a modest community of Israelis who primarily work in the aircraft industry. They are not religious ideologues. They live there because of the settlement's proximity to Ben Gurion airport. It is like any small town. It is not a few trailers on a hilltop. There are street signs and street cleaners. There are parks and community centers. There we meet with retired Colonel Danny Terza, the chief architect of the seam zone barrier that was erected during the second intifada to prevent terror attacks. Something it helped to successfully curtail. He explained to us the importance of retaining control of the hilltops in order to guarantee Israel's security. The afternoon offered a hazy sky, but still with little effort, we could make out the runway of Israel's international airport. How could Israel relinquish security control over all of the West Bank? When looking at a map it is impossible to appreciate how the land's mountains and valleys come into play. Standing here, peering at Ben Gurion's runway in the visible distance, we better appreciated the importance of the West Bank in terms of Israel's security. We continued to travel the roads of the territories.

To the left, the settlement of Halamish, to the right the Palestinian town of Nablus. Our bus turned off the main road into the West Bank's Area A. In the Oslo Accords Area A came to enjoy full Palestinian control, as opposed to Area C where Israel maintains complete control. In Area B Israel maintains control over security and the Palestinians over civilian affairs. We were escorted by a Palestinian jeep through Arab towns to the site of the future town of Rawabi. Israelis no longer travel to such places and do not travel in Area A. Although we were traveling in a bullet proof bus I never once felt unsafe. There we met with developer Bashar El Masri, a wealthy Palestinian who hopes to transform the current situation from conflict into peace while still making a profit. He is developing the first Palestinian planned city. Imagine Columbia, Maryland only in the middle of the West Bank. He believes that building such a city and addressing the socio-economic issues will help to create the opportunities for peace.

Like the settlers he is also creating facts on the ground. If he succeeds there will soon be impressive Palestinian facts alongside Jewish facts on this land. I wonder if the facts are less about reality and more about what you believe. Here you can deny the others' facts just as easily as you create your own. Whose language do you speak? Whose facts do you support? I was also left pondering this observation. Many Israelis speak of security and history. This Palestinian, and his employees, spoke of peace and the future. In a world that embraces youth and technology speaking of the past will not endear us to the world. With such eloquent spokesmen who will win over the hearts of the world? And even more important to this rabbi, who will win over the hearts of our young people? Their language is as well one of peace and the future.

Balak

2011-07-07T07:43:00.001-07:00

“How fair are your tents, O Jacob, Your dwellings, O Israel! ” (Numbers 24:5)

I arrived in Jerusalem Sunday evening as the sun was setting on the first day of the week. I found again a city filled with life and vitality.

The rabbis suggest that the world was granted ten measures of beauty, but nine were given to Jerusalem. I have read this Talmudic text many times. Often I have found it to be exaggerated. I have been privileged to see many beautiful cities. I love San Francisco with its hills and jagged Pacific coastline. I hear that Paris is an extraordinarily beautiful city and Venice a lover’s paradise. There are even days when the beauty of our very own Long Island is stunning.

Yet when I am here I feel the rabbis’ sentiment. I believe that this city of Jerusalem does indeed hold nine measures of beauty. It is difficult to fathom when we sit in New York reading of Israel’s struggles and Jerusalem’s conflicts. We see only problems and difficulties. From afar the city’s beauty is obscured. From near it is stunning and beautiful. And so on that day when I returned to my beloved Jerusalem I beheld only nine measures of beauty.

Those who know me well must ask: how could I love a city where I am so far from the ocean and the sea? Yehuda Amichai responds: “And there are days here when everything is sails and more sails, even though there’s no sea in Jerusalem, not even a river.” In another poem he even calls Jerusalem the Venice of God, describing it as a “port city on the shore of eternity.” Even though there is no sea here one nonetheless senses the ocean’s waves.

I have long sought the words to describe my swelling emotions when I visit this city. I reach to the poet. I set out upon the city’s streets to find the words.

Soon after arriving, on the second afternoon when I had my first break from classes, I walked the streets of Jerusalem. I traveled from my rented apartment on trendy Emek Refaim to the Tayelet overlooking the city, through the Old City’s Zion Gate to the Western Wall and through the Arab shuk back to the apartment, by way of Jaffa Gate and King David Street. Despite the fact that I touched the very stones that generations of Jews had only hoped to feel and that beneath my feet I imagined Abraham walking with his son Isaac and David planning the building of the Temple, the view that took my breath away was that from the Tayelet, the promenade overlooking the Southern walls of the Old City.

There I saw the golden dome of the Dome of the Rock, the top of the Church of Holy Sepulchre peering above the city’s buildings and the Hurva synagogue, destroyed decades ago by the Jordanians but now rebuilt. I looked to the left of the Old City’s walls and saw the windmill of Yemin Moshe, the first neighborhood built outside the Old City’s walls. And to the left of this was the expanse of the ever growing new city of West Jerusalem.

And it is actually this view of the cranes building the new city that always makes my heart swell. It is not the ancient but in fact the new. It is that we have returned to this place that for generations we only dreamed of, and spoke about, and sang to, and prayed for. It is not only the political success of modern Israel or its many achievements here in Jerusalem. It is instead that here, even on an ordinary bustling street, I see the Torah’s words of this week’s portion: “How fair are your tents, O Jacob, Your dwellings, O Israel!”

Here our dreams have become real. Here we are not only rebuilding our ancient city. We are also constructing our very dreams. No city is perfect of course. The reality is not yet the ideal.

Still there is always a moment here when I see only nine measures of beauty and believe that I am once again privileged to return to the port city on the shore of eternity.

Hukkat

2011-06-30T10:31:00.001-07:00

Often ritual acts are performed in remembrance of long since abandoned, or even forgotten, practices.

We place a shank bone on the Passover seder plate. We do so in remembrance of the Passover sacrifices offered in the ancient Temple. The Temple was destroyed 2,000 years ago yet the tradition insists that we continually remember its power and grandeur. Likewise we salt the Shabbat hallah in order to remember that the sacrifices were salted. Despite the fact that we continue to observe these customs few people explain these customs with words about the Temple and its sacrifices.

The rituals surrounding death and mourning offer even more examples. We wash our hands after returning to the shiva house from the cemetery. Its origins are found in this week’s Torah portion, Hukkat. “When a person dies in a tent, whoever enters the tent and whoever is in the tent shall be impure for seven days… A person who is pure shall take hyssop, dip it in water, and sprinkle it on the tent and on all the vessels and people who were there… The pure person shall sprinkle it upon the impure person on the third day and on the seventh day, thus purifying him by the seventh day.” (Numbers 19:14-20)

Once the Temple was destroyed we could no longer perform such intricate purification rituals. Yet we still wash our hands following the funeral. Often this ritual is given different meaning. It is explained as a symbolic cleansing. We wash to move from death towards life. We no longer believe that death defiles or renders us impure. Yet its presence requires restorative powers. We summon our strength. We rely on our rituals.

In this week’s Torah portion as well Moses buries both his brother Aaron and his sister Miriam. I imagine that Moses had to summon all his strength in order to persevere after suffering these personal losses. But how could he perform the rituals that would help him move from death to life? His brother Aaron was the priest who alone was commanded to perform these purification rituals.

And Miriam as well was associated with water. According to legend while she was alive wells miraculously appeared wherever the Israelites camped. When she died the Israelites were without water. In fact immediately following her death the Torah reports that the community was without water and complained against Moses. How could Moses then mourn his sister? How could Moses perform the rituals that would aid in his recovery?

Our situation is similar. We no longer have a Temple. Sometimes we no longer even recall why we perform these acts. Yet they still help us move from death to life. Water helps restore the soul.

Every time I walk through the doors of a shiva house past the pitcher of water (may such days be infrequent) I do not think of the ancient sacrifices. I offer instead a silent prayer. May the waters Miriam brought to her people bring healing to today’s grieving family. May this family soon arrive to the day when their tears no longer sting their cheeks.

Korah

2011-06-23T07:48:00.000-07:00

This week’s portion, Korah, details the great rebellion against Moses and his authority. Korah and his followers gathered against Moses saying, “You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Lord is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above the Lord’s congregation?” (Numbers 16:3)

One can understand their complaints. It is easy to imagine what people might have been saying about Moses. “Can you believe this guy? He keeps telling us he is talking to God and that everything is going to be wonderful. The land is so beautiful he keeps promising. But when are we going to arrive there? Will we ever get there? Day after day we eat this manna. Day after day we schlep. We keep walking and walking. Every day is the same. And then this guy Moses keeps changing the original plan.”

One can be sympathetic to their grumblings. On the surface the criticisms appear legitimate. Examine the Torah’s words. Judaism does indeed believe that everyone can speak to God. Our religion requires no intermediary. Moses is not holier than any other human being. Yet Korah and his followers are severely punished. Why?

Midrash Tanhuma suggests an answer. It imagines Korah asking Moses these questions: “Does a tallit all of blue still require blue fringes? Does a room full of Torah scrolls still require a mezuzah?” In the rabbinic imagination Korah’s questions are brimming with disdain. His words suggest that he questions the entire system. It is because he is so disrespectful that he is punished.

We often do the same. We highlight inconsistencies in our religious systems, and political systems, not to correct but instead to mock. It is of course far easier to poke fun and reject rather than affirm and improve.

We appear to live in an age when too many have become Korah. We seek to amuse. We mock those with whom we disagree. We even call those with whom we disagree: traitors. Our culture measures an argument’s winner not by the merit of the ideas but by the reactions of the participants. If someone is made to cry or stammer then they have lost the argument, even better if they are made to do so on TV. We no longer debate ideas. Instead we attack others.

We have become Korah. And for this we should ask forgiveness and mend our ways. If we are ever going to make it to the promised land and improve our society we must not attack each other. We must instead debate and argue about the ideas that might change our world.

What Korah failed to understand we as well fail to grasp. We are all in this together. And we are all in the wilderness. We had better master debating the ideas that matter without seeking to undermine the entire system. We had better figure out a way to argue with each other while not shouting words of hate.

Of those who left Egypt only two made it to the promised land. I do not wish to be standing alone in the land. I do not wish to remain in the wilderness.

Shelach Lecha Sermon

2011-06-20T10:43:00.000-07:00

Given this week’s news, and last week’s, and perhaps even the week before, I have been thinking about how incredibly disappointing people can be. People really have the remarkable ability to disappoint. This of course was the theme of my weekly email message. I am not going to retell that Talmudic story and its sordid details at services, but here is the question for this evening: what is the meaning of being human? As human beings we are capable of untold depths, but also of course great heights. People can indeed disappoint, but also surprise.

We find this theme in the week’s parsha, Shelach Lecha. It tells the story of the spies who are sent to scout the land of Israel. Twelve spies are sent; two different reports return with them. Ten report the following: “The country that we traversed and scouted is one that devours its settlers. All the people that we saw in it are men of great size…and we looked like grasshoppers to ourselves and so we must have looked to them.” (Numbers 13:32-33) Joshua and Caleb however say, “The land that we traversed and scouted is an exceedingly good land… Have no fear then of the people of the country, for they are our prey: their protection has departed from them, but the Lord is with us. Have no fear of them!” (Numbers 14:7-9)

It is a remarkable contrast: the same experience yet entirely different responses. Some spies see only the challenges and difficulties. Joshua and Caleb see instead possibilities. Joshua and Caleb see only milk and honey. The other spies see giants; they imagine mythic figures who will overpower them. For this good report Joshua and Caleb, and they alone, are rewarded with being able to enter the land of Israel. They are the only two of the generation who leave Egypt allowed to enter the land. It was of course the same experience for all twelve spies, yet they offered different responses and therefore discovered different outcomes.

There was an interesting article in The New York Times about this week’s events. It made the claim that male politicians are far more likely to be felled by sex scandals. Women politicians by contrast are not so frequently embroiled in such things. The reporter suggested that this was because women better understand how precarious their achievements are and therefore don’t want to jeopardize these hard earned positions. Sheryl Gay Stolberg also made the claim that men go into politics to be somebody and women by contrast go into politics to change things.

I thought this last point was an interesting claim. I am not going to weigh in on this male-female dichotomy, but I am sure it will make for interesting debates at home between husbands and wives. Instead I wish to focus on the claim that the goal is not to make something of ourselves but instead to make something of the world. I believe, I have always believed, that this is our God-given task. And so I guess in the Time’s reporter’s estimation, my belief shows your rabbi’s feminine side. We are called upon to improve our world, to make things better, even if only a little bit.

Now I am not usually a fan of CNN or the TV news in general, especially this week. It is not just because of CNN’s biased reporting about Israel. It is instead that TV is actually no longer news. It all seems to be approaching reality TV, and even Jersey Shore. It is because TV reporting spends far too much time talking about people’s mistakes and foibles.

But CNN also has this wonderful program called, "Everyday Heroes". It showcases ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Here is one such story. Yuval Roth, is an Israeli whose brother was kidnapped and murdered by Hamas terrorists in 1993. Since then he has become active in a group that brings together Palestinians and Israelis who have both suffered loss, whether by terrorists or the IDF’s weapons. (The result of course is the same even though the moral legitimacy is clearly different.) In this group Yuval discovered a need.

Many Palestinians require medical attention in Israel but can’t afford to get to Israeli hospitals. So Yuval created an organization that now comprises some 200 volunteers. These volunteers help transport Palestinians to and from the West Bank. One young three year old Palestinian girl requires frequent dialysis and has been driven some 500 times by the group. In 2010 the group drove 90,000 kilometers helping Palestinians traverse Israeli checkpoints and reach medical care in Israel. Yuval said the following: “I lost my brother, but I didn't lose my head. This activity gives me an essence for life. I have learned the price of the conflict is a lot more than the price of making peace. We are all human beings.”

Many people might understandably look at this situation and make a different choice. Many people might again understandably allow grief to turn into anger. But Yuval demanded of himself something different. He chose instead to make something of this world. He did not set out to make a name for himself. He chose instead to transform his small piece of the world. Whether or not he helps to make peace in the Middle East is not the point. He is helping to bring healing to others. To a greater or lesser extent each of us is faced with a similar choice.

We have to decide. We can look in the mirror (forgive me, I cannot resist) and say like our former congressman, “Wow don’t I look fine?” Actually in case this is unclear, you are not supposed to say that. You are also not supposed to say with the ten spies, “I am but a puny little grasshopper.” Or we can say what we are supposed to say, “What good can I bring to this world?” What can I make of this world? What can I change? What healing can I bring to others?

In the end Anthony Wiener’s sin was not that he tweeted a picture of himself, however lewd and salacious it might have been. His failure was one of leadership. The moral issues are only between him and his wife. His sin was instead that he actually thought it was all about himself. Leadership, and politics, are supposed to transcend the self. His failure to see this was his great undoing, and our shame. It is never supposed to be about ourselves. Ok, maybe that is an impossible ideal. It is not supposed to be only about ourselves.

Try thinking about others first. Try thinking about what the world need you to do first. Because the more of us who live by Joshua’s and Caleb’s example the better. That is, the better the world will be for it. Thinking about others and our world is really supposed to be our most important job. It is all of our jobs. But it is especially the job of our leaders.

Below is the CNN video clip of Yuval Roth.

Shelach Lecha

2011-06-17T10:13:00.001-07:00

I have been thinking about a famous Talmudic story. I have added a few embellishments and modern idioms, but the salacious details are the Talmud’s. Such stories are not new to the Twittersphere. They are part and parcel of our Talmud, and even our Bible as well.

Once a man, who was very scrupulous about the mitzvah of tzitzit, heard of a certain prostitute in one of the towns by the sea who accepted four hundred dollars for her services. He wired her the four hundred dollars and scheduled an appointment. When the day arrived he came and waited at her door, and her attendant came and told her, “That man who sent you the four hundred dollars is here and waiting at the door;” to which she replied, “Let him come in.”

When he came in she prepared for him seven beds, six of silver and one of gold; and between one bed and the other there were steps of silver, but the last were of gold. She then went up to the top bed and lay down upon it naked, seductively motioning to the man to climb to the top, golden bed. He quickly climbed the silver beds in his desire to sit naked with her, when all of sudden the four tzitzit of his tallit struck him across the face as he climbed on top of the golden bed; whereupon he jumped off the bed and sat on the ground.

She followed him off the bed and sat on the ground next to him and said, “By the Roman Capital, I will not leave you alone until you tell me what blemish you saw in me.” He replied, “By the holy Temple, never have I seen a woman as beautiful as you; but there is one commandment which the Lord our God has commanded us, it is called tzitzit, and with regard to it the expression ‘I am the Lord your God’ is written twice, signifying I am the God who will exact punishment in the future and I am the God who will give reward in the future. Now when the tzitzit hit me in the face they appeared to me as four witnesses testifying against me.”

She said, “I will not leave you until you tell me your name, the name of your town, the name of your teacher, the name of your school in which you study the Torah.” So he wrote all this down on piece of paper and handed it to her, returning to his town. She then arose and divided her estate into three parts; one third for the government, one third to be distributed among the poor, and one third she took with her in her hand; her sexy lingerie, however, she retained.

She then came to the school of Rabbi Hiyya, and said to him, “Master, give instructions to me that you might make me a convert.” He replied, “My daughter, perhaps you have set your eyes upon one of my disciples?” She thereupon took out the handwritten note and handed it to the Rabbi. Rabbi Hiyya said, “The two of you should go and get married.”

And that very lingerie which she had spread out for him for an illicit purpose she now spread out for him lawfully. And so this is the reward of the mitzvah in this world; and as for its reward in the future world we do not know how great it will prove to be. (Babylonian Talmud, Menahot 44a)

The Torah portion states: “That shall be your tzitzit; look at them and recall all the commandments of the Lord and observe them, so that you do not follow your heart and eyes in your lustful urge.” (Numbers 15:39)

Whether it is Twitter, Facebook, sexting, or a gold bed, our eyes do stray. It is not a sickness to be treated or a disease to be cured. It is instead human. Rabbi ben Zoma states: “Who is a hero? The person who conquers his, or her, evil inclination.” (Pirke Avot 4:1) I am forgiving of human weaknesses. I am unforgiving when people’s mistakes, and sins, are excused as addictions. When we err, we have no choice but to admit our errors and change our ways. When we face addictions, as difficult and painful as it may be, we have no choice but to conquer them.

Everyone does err, and even stray. Our tradition teaches that rituals help to focus our attention towards our divine purpose. It is always helpful to have reminders. It can be the mezuzah on our doorposts, or the tallit on our shoulders. The intention is that they help to bring out the best in us.

And when we think of veering, rituals can help to redirect our thoughts—and we hope and pray as well, even guide our actions.

Behaalotecha Sermon

2011-06-12T16:35:00.001-07:00

Some brief words of Torah before we conclude this special Shabbat service and celebrate this year's confirmation students.

Have you ever walked around the cocktail hour at a bar/bat mitzvah party and said, “What no lamb chops?”

Our Torah portion states: “Then the Israelites wept and said, ‘If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish that we used to eat free in Egypt, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic. Now our gullets are shriveled. There is nothing at all! Nothing but this manna to look to!’” (Numbers 11:4-6)

It is remarkable that people are so often ungrateful for the many blessings they have. The Israelites had just earned freedom, and yet all they wanted to do was go back to Egypt. They complained and complained and said at least there they could cucumbers and melons.

Freedom is of course an enormous blessing. It is part of what we celebrate as we mark confirmation this evening. But freedom comes with enormous responsibility. At times this responsibility overwhelms the blessings. We rebel under the weight of the responsibility. We complain, “I have so much to do…”

Abraham Joshua Heschel called this the “insecurity of freedom” in his book about our responsibility to speak out against injustices. Freedom is not about doing whatever you want. It is about doing what you need to do. Moreover it is about doing what the world needs you to do.

My hope and prayer on this Shabbat is that we look more at what we have than what we don’t have. I pray that we affirm all our blessings each and every day. And not curse the few things we have not yet achieved. My hope and prayer is that we live up to the responsibilities of freedom.

Then we will never say, “What where are the lamb chops, or the cucumbers or the melons?” You can look at the world like the Israelites did in our parsha. Or you can look at the world and the many things you do have and count your blessings. I believe they are always plentiful. Our blessings are especially plentiful when you look at all the things that you must do and see them as blessings. You can look at the world and say, “Wow look at the many blessings I can achieve by virtue of the responsibilities I have.”

Then nothing is a burden and everything a blessing.

The 19^th century poet and minister, Phillips Brooks, wrote (I thank Rabbi Marc Gellman for bringing this poem to my attention):

Do not pray for easy lives;

pray to be stronger men [people].

Do not pray for tasks equal

to your powers; pray for

powers equal to your tasks.

Then the doing of your work

shall be no miracle, but

you shall be a miracle.

Every day you shall wonder

at yourself, at the richness

of the life which has come to

you by the grace of God.

Amen v‘amen!

Partition - for Zionism's Sake

2011-06-10T14:23:00.000-07:00

Partition - for Zionism's Sake - Haaretz Daily Newspaper | Israel News
Ruth Gavison writes:

In the history of the Zionist movement, there were those who saw its goal as re-uniting the Jewish people with its historic homeland, and those who emphasized the idea that the objective of Zionism is the political rebirth of the Jewish people in the Land of Israel. Yet on every occasion when the leadership of the country's Jewish community, the Yishuv, faced a choice between having a Jewish state in part of the land or clinging to the dream of a Greater Eretz Israel, it selected, by a large majority, the option of having political independence in part of the land, where there would be a stable Jewish majority, and allowing the Arab minority to enjoy rights and equality.

The same holds true today. A strong majority of the Jewish population in Israel wants to end the occupation and create a reality in which a stable Jewish majority is preserved in a State of Israel that does not rule over another people, whose members lack civil and political rights. The debate is not about liberating ourselves from Zionism, but rather, about creating the basic conditions crucial for Zionism's realization.

The validity of this goal and its advancement are not predicated upon the Palestinians' intentions or ambitions. Ostensibly, even the prime minister understands this and declares it to be his objective as well. Yet, neither he nor his government have shown consistent support of it, nor are they doing enough to promote it. They put the keys for advancing toward its realization in the hands of the Palestinians.

As much as we may wish to retain the West Bank and as much as we rightfully can do so, withdrawing from the territories might be required in order to ensure the survival of the Zionist dream.

Naso Sermon

2011-06-09T14:45:00.001-07:00

My sermon from Friday, June 3, follows.

This week’s Torah portion is Naso. It is the longest of all the weekly portions. It details a number of items. There is the census of the Levites, the tribe assigned to priestly duties. There is the Nazarite vow, pledging those adherents to God and setting them apart from the people by insisting that they abstain from drinking alcohol (rather un-Jewish if you asked me) and by refraining from cutting their hair (oops). Hence the most well known Nazarite is Samson who when he is seduced into cutting his hair loses all his strength.

At the conclusion of this chapter about the Nazarite’s vow occurs one of the most familiar blessings in the entire Torah, the priestly blessing: “May the Lord bless you and keep you; may the light of the Lord’s face shine upon you and be gracious to you; may you always find God’s presence in your life and be blessed with shalom, with peace.” The final chapter then offers the last bit of preparations for the tabernacle’s use.

I would like to focus on the opening chapter. To my mind the theme of this chapter is keeping the community whole. It discusses several different circumstances when one’s place in the community is called into question. It opens with what situations make someone ritually impure. Then it discusses the strange sotah ritual which was the subject of this week’s email. This is the ritual for determining the guilt of an adulterer. The suspected wife was made to drink a mixture of bitter water and earth. If her belly grew and her thigh sagged then she had sinned. (I know a bizarre ritual.) I don’t believe this ritual ever worked to prove or disprove adultery.

But I do believe it worked to keep the relationship intact. It managed to assuage a husband’s jealousy and anger. It allowed a husband and wife to return home together. It kept the relationship whole. This appears to be the overriding concern of this chapter: how to keep the community whole; how to keep relationships intact.

Unlike the contemporary ethos of truth will set you free, or the truth at all costs, truth was not the Torah’s primary concern. Take another example from this same chapter. “When a man or woman commits any wrong toward a fellow man, thus breaking faith with the Lord, and that person realizes his guilt, he shall confess the wrong that he has done. He shall make restitution in the principal amount and add one-fifth to it, giving it to him whom he has wronged.”

Think about this law. All of us would agree that some wrongs require more payment than others. Which requires more payment: an insult or theft of property, an injury or damaged reputation? Whether or not someone is wronged is a subjective evaluation. Our chapter does not detail what the wrong is. It says instead, “When someone commits any wrong…” To make it right you have to do two things: confess and make restitution plus 20%.

If this was about truth and about rebalancing the scales then you would pay back an equal amount. But the Torah wants to make the community whole. The Torah recognizes that in order to create shalom, peace in relationships you have to go farther, you have to add 20%. You have to make an effort to correct hurt feelings.

It is not just about fairness. It is not about you lost $1,000 so you must get back $1,000. The Torah appears to recognize that it has to go beyond full payment. It is not even about the truth of who was right and who was wrong. It leaves that question aside. This truth can be sacrificed for the sake of peace, for the sake of shalom.

Take these two examples together. The sotah and the confession of wrong and you have a whole community. In the sotah ritual, the tradition is bent so that the relationship can be made whole. A ritual is invented so that a relationship can be repaired. In the confession of wrong, the individual bends to repair the mistake and the relationship. The overriding concern is that we must go to great lengths to keep our community whole. Much can be sacrificed to keep us together. That has always been the most pressing Jewish concern.

Who is right and who is wrong is not what is most important. It is instead that we sit together. Rabbi Hillel said, “Al tifrosh min ha-tzibbur—don’t separate yourself from the community.” We must never separate ourselves from the community. We must never separate ourselves from each other.

The community, relationships, always takes precedence. Peace is always worth an additional 20%.

Behaalotecha

2011-06-09T12:46:00.001-07:00

Since the exodus of Jews from the former Soviet Union there has been a proliferation of pork stores in Israel. Now in the holy city of Jerusalem one can easily buy ham. Russian Jews, who now comprise twenty percent of the Israeli population, apparently love pork. And so they have brought the food they grew to love in Russia to the State of Israel.

“The riffraff in their midst felt a gluttonous craving; and then the Israelites wept and said, ‘If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish that we used to eat free in Egypt, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic. Now our gullets are shriveled. There is nothing at all! Nothing but this manna to look to!’” (Numbers 11:4-6)

Too often people are unable to recognize the blessings that they have. The Israelites were recently freed from slavery in Egypt. Within months they began complaining. True they were stuck wandering the Sinai wilderness. But they were free. They were their own people. No longer were they forced to build palaces for Pharaoh. Water was plentiful. Manna was abundant. Still they longed for the familiarity of Egypt. They longed for the foods of their slave owners.

It was as if they said, “At least when we were in jail we ate three meals a day.” Even when immigrants are grateful to leave their countries of origin and even when they have gained freedom in a new found home, they continue to long for the food their parents served them, or for that matter the food their taskmasters provided them. It was as if Russian Jews looked at all of Israel’s successes and said, “There is nothing but this falafel and hummus!”

Many times people are unable to see the blessings that stand before them. They always want more. People are too often unhappy with the gifts they have. We fail see our freedoms. We are unable, for example, to see the many blessings of our American democracy. Instead we focus on our country’s problems. Instead we focus on our gluttonous craving. We only see what we left behind. Rabbi ben Zoma teaches: “Who is rich? Those who are content with their portion.”

But how can we be content when we face so many struggles and challenges? The Israelites were unable to do so. They were wandering through the desert. It was beginning to look like their trip was going to take much longer than planned. Perhaps it is understandable that they wanted to go back to Egypt. Perhaps it is understandable that they wanted to taste the familiar.

Immigrants make better lives for themselves here in this country, as well as in Israel, and enrich our country in the process. Even though they desperately wanted to leave their home countries, they still long for the familiar sights, sounds and especially tastes of their youth. Recently when driving through Queens I saw Indian and Pakistani immigrants playing cricket. I thought to myself, “Why would they invest so much time and energy in the sport of their former British overlords?” And then I realized that they were not playing a British game but the game of their youth. People always long for the familiar. They will always love their home country’s cooking. Comfort food is whatever one grows up eating. Why?

It is provided for you. Life is much harder when you have to provide for yourself, when you have to cook for yourself. There are moments when we long for the past, even with its limits, even when it represents a time when decisions were made for us. We ask, how can we move forward through challenges and struggles while still seeing the blessings that lie before us? How can we move forward while still holding fast to our youthful past without allowing it to rule our lives?

Perhaps it is helpful to savor the food with which we grew up. Even when it is the food of the country we were thankful to leave, its taste gives us strength to fight the challenges of today.

Shavuot

2011-06-06T13:11:00.000-07:00

Shavuot is among the most important of Jewish holidays, yet the least observed. It marks the revelation at Mount Sinai seven weeks after the liberation from Egypt. Thus the holidays of Passover and Shavuot are connected by the counting of the Omer. Judaism believes that our freedom must be wedded to Torah in order for our lives to have meaning.

Many people think that a life devoted to Torah is a life scrupulously bound to Jewish rituals. An observant Jew is one who lights candles 18 minutes before sunset, keeps a kosher kitchen, fasts on Yom Kippur, sleeps in a sukkah, prays three times a day and much more. These rituals are important to be sure. Rituals can bring great meaning to our lives, adding a measure of holiness and helping to focus our thoughts on what is important and lasting.

But it is demeaning of Judaism and the gift of Torah to define a religious life in terms of rituals alone. Torah is even more importantly about ethics and how we behave towards each other. One cannot be religious and cheat in business. One cannot be observant and scream words of anger to those we are supposed to love.

If our freedom from Egypt is going to have lasting meaning then it must be tied to how we treat each other. Torah must bring healing to our world. On this Shavuot I would like us to rededicate ourselves to the ethical meaning of Torah. I would like us to allow Torah to influence our actions. I would like to dream that the gift of Torah can transform our world into a better place.

That is a dream I cannot fulfill alone. Join me in devoting ourselves anew to the gift of Torah.

Naso

2011-06-02T13:40:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion, Naso, contains the curious, and bizarre, sotah ritual (Numbers 5). Although its practice was long ago abolished by the rabbis, its meaning and purpose are worth pondering. Here is the ritual. If a husband suspects his wife of committing adultery he brings her to the priest. (This ritual and its accompanying laws were decidedly one-sided.) The husband brings a meal offering. Then the priest has the woman come forward and stand before the altar. He makes her drink bitter waters. The priest then offers an incantation saying, “If you have committed adultery then may these waters make your belly distend and your thigh sag.” She responds, “Amen, amen!” If these words come true then she has broken faith with her husband.

What a strange ritual indeed! We belong to a tradition that rejects such magic. The purposes of rituals are to add holiness to our lives and focus our thoughts on proper behavior. They are not to work magic. Ask me to pray for the sick. And you might be granted extra strength. Ask me to hold your hand. And you might gain added comfort. Beg me to lay my hands on your head and scream, “You are healed!” This is beyond human abilities and foreign to our tradition. Miracles can instead be found in the ordinary. They stand before us each and every day. Magic by contrast is the stuff of charlatans, and not believers.

Why then would the Torah offer this uncharacteristic ritual? The medieval commentator, Ramban, remarks that only in the case of this sotah ritual is a judicial decision dependent on such magic. The suggestion is clear. This ritual was intended not to render justice but to avoid judgment. According to the Torah adultery is a capital crime. The renowned biblical scholar Jacob Milgrom notes that the Bible stands apart from other ancient Near Eastern legal traditions in not allowing the husband to commute the death sentence against an adulterous spouse. He can’t simply say, “I forgive you.” Here is the underlying theory. If it is a crime against God then only God can unravel the judgment. This is the purpose of the sotah ritual.

It is a ritual devised to circumvent the law. Judgment is not always the best medicine. Perhaps magic and potions can bring healing to broken relationships.

Today people get divorced for many different reasons. Judaism recognizes its necessity. Sometimes the best medicine for the couple, and the family for that matter, is divorce. Still Judaism wants people to fulfill the Torah’s wish, “It is not good to be alone.” In this week’s portion it appears as well to be making the remarkable claim that at times adultery can be overlooked, that the relationship might be more worthy of preserving than even this truth of “breaking faith.”

When the sotah ritual is examined one realizes that the intended result is that the couple is made whole again. The ritual stands in direct contrast to today’s news reporters and gossip columnists who pursue such truths and thereby destroy countless relationships. The priest does not run around the community searching for witnesses in order to prove or disprove the husband’s claim of infidelity. Instead he makes the wife drink a potion. Did these waters of bitterness ever make any woman’s belly distend or thighs sag? I suspect not.

And so then the priest could say, “Let your jealousy be quelled. Return home together.” In our age we might say, “How arcane. What superstitious nonsense.” Then again we might do well to ponder the extraordinary lengths our tradition travels to preserve relationships. Time and again Judaism sacrifices truth for the sake of peace. Shalom bayit, peace in the home, takes precedence over most else.

Here it invents a ritual so that a husband and wife can again look each other in the eyes and say, “I love you.” That is the message of the sotah ritual. Helping couples say these words is its intent. Helping couples say “I love you” is worth renewed effort.

It is even worth resorting to magic potions.

Newsletter Article

2011-06-02T13:38:00.001-07:00

What follows is my newsletter article from the May-June 2011 Newsletter.

A few more questions from our Religious School students.

How was the first person made?

According to the Torah there are two stories about the creation of human beings. In the first God creates a human being (adam) just by saying, “Let there be a person.” Then God divides this person in half and makes the first man and woman. In the second God creates adam out of adamah (earth). In this story God is more like an artist who is fashioning a clay pot. Then God realizes that something is wrong. Adam is really lonely. So God creates the first woman, Eve, out of his rib so that they can keep each other company. So in the first version God creates the first people and in the second God creates the first couple.

Why do we only believe in one God?

Is this a trick question! The answer is because there is only one God. I know it is really hard to think about something or understand something that you can’t touch or see, but that is what we believe. I believe we can see God when we see beautiful things or when we see people do really wonderful things.

Do you keep kosher? What are things that kosher people do?

Yes. I really like keeping kosher. It makes me think about being Jewish even when I am eating. Keeping kosher is about only eating meat that has been killed in the least painful way. It is about not mixing milk and meat and it is also about only eating those animals that God says in the Torah are permitted. But keeping kosher is not only about food. It is also about doing the right thing. The word kosher means fitting or proper. So the most important thing is always to do the right thing. That is what a kosher person is supposed to do!

Will another Holocaust start? Please say “No.”

I wish I could say no, but unfortunately too many have already happened since the Holocaust we learned about in Religious School. This is why we have to focus really hard on making the world a better place and doing kosher things. If everyone tries to do the right thing then another Holocaust can’t happen.

Recently Annie Bleiberg, a Holocaust survivor, came to our sixth grade class. The following quotes are what some of our students wrote after listening to her story. Their words give us hope that no more Holocausts might happen!

“When she said how all the people were dying for no reason at all and it just occurred to me how all the people just probably fell asleep and never woke up. Also when she said how they were freed from the camps and ghettos and they were crying tears of joy.”

“What I remembered most was when she was telling us about how she got the number on her arm. This stood out to me most because of the way it happened and what happened when it occurred. “

“This is a picture of when she jumped off the train and fell on the snow.”

“It amazed me how Annie never gave up on life no matter how tired or how hungry she was. She kept fighting for freedom and life.”

“Annie said to us, ‘Don’t give up. Life is worth fighting for.’”

Amen. Annie always says it best!

Have a great summer! Thanks as always for your questions.

New Yorker Editorial

2011-06-02T13:37:00.000-07:00

O’Bama and Netanyahoo’s Duelling Speeches : The New Yorker
My worry begins with this week's editorial by Henrik Hertzberg. He concludes with these words:

Nearly as appalling as Netanyahu’s intransigence was the mindlessness of the senators and representatives, Republican and Democratic, who rewarded him with ovation after standing ovation. This had less to do with studied convictions about the issues than with the political salience, actual and perceived, of certain Jewish and evangelical constituencies. (For many in the House chamber, the two-state solution is their own plus Florida.) But Middle East diplomacy is always distorted by short-term domestic politics. At the moment, Israel-accepting Fatah has its untested détente with Israel-denying Hamas; Netanyahu has a cabinet stocked with ministers openly determined to keep every inch of the West Bank; Obama has 2012. The President has put down some markers but has no discernible plan to make them stick. Time is short. In much of the Arab world, public opinion is supplanting the whims of malleable tyrants. Palestinians are beginning to discover the possibilities of nonviolence, which Israel, with its ethical and political traditions, would find far harder to resist than rocks and rockets. The longer the occupation lasts, and the larger the Arab and Palestinian populations grow in territory under Israeli control, the more untenable Israel’s future as both Jewish and democratic becomes. And a tsunami approaches. “There is an impatience with the peace process, or the absence of one, not just in the Arab world—in Latin America, in Asia, and in Europe,” Obama told the AIPAC delegates. In September, the United Nations may consider a Palestinian request for admission as a sovereign state. Such a resolution would not make Palestine sovereign, of course. But it would damage Israel’s legitimacy in unprecedented ways, and probably threaten its economy. In Europe last week, Obama sought support to head off such a U.N. resolution, or, at least, to avoid having to veto it in isolation. If he is to succeed in even that limited task, he’ll need a lot more than the luck of the Irish.

The Zionist vision was the creation of an independent Jewish state. I worry that Israel has become far too dependent on American aid and support. Israel should be able to go it alone. It should be able to decide what is the best course of action and how to guarantee a peaceful future. On the other hand the state should have a deep and abiding relationship with world Jewry. It should be sensitive to the concerns of those Jews living outside of the land.

This of course is fanciful thinking. As I read The New Yorker's editorial I grew increasingly worried that Israel is isolating itself from the Western world and from many diaspora Jews. Most Jews living in this country in particular are more sensitive to the pulls of democracy than those of Jewish history and tradition. They feel more American than Jewish. As Israel's democratic character falters they will lose sympathy with the Jewish state. Much of the Western world, in particular Europe, has already lost faith with the Jewish state. With each instance when Israel's democracy is challenged and when Israelis fail to live up to democratic values, American Jews lose faith with the State of Israel.

I feel the pull of Jewish tradition and the tug of Jerusalem. I fear however that many do not.feel similarly. While I agreed with much of what Netanyahu said I wonder with how many others did it resonate. How many instead feel more kinship with the sentiments expressed above? If the majority feel like minded then Netanyahu was indeed speaking to the wrong audience. He should not be speaking as much to those who are cheering, but to doubters and critics. He already has me in his corner. I will always be on Israel's side. How will he gain more supporters to the cause?

MEMRI TV Clip #2952

2011-05-31T11:41:00.000-07:00

Below is a clip from a May 20th rally in Gaza. In the rally marchers chant slogans praising Osama bin Laden and denouncing the US. It is difficult to discern how many are present at this rally. Nonetheless it provides more troubling evidence of the hatred filling the streets of Gaza.

I continue to hope and pray that the Palestinians of Gaza, and in particular their Hamas leadership, will focus more on building something rather than destroying others. But with each of these clips I become more and more pessimistic about the hopes for peace.

Bamidbar Sermon

2011-05-31T11:04:00.001-07:00

The greatest king of Israel was David, yet he sinned a number of times. Interestingly one of his sins was exactly what Moses does in this week’s Torah portion. According to the Bible David was punished for ordering a census. The Book of Samuel reports: “David reproached himself for having numbered the people. And David said to the Lord, ‘I have sinned grievously in what I have done. Please, O Lord, remit the guilt of Your servant, for I have acted foolishly.’” (2 Samuel 24)

Apparently the counting of the tribes, the numbering of the people, reported in Parshat Bamidbar, was an exception, not the norm. Moses takes a census of the people in order to muster the troops and determine how many battalions he has before his successor, Joshua, makes war on the inhabitants of the Promised Land. This contrast between Moses and David brings to light Judaism’s discomfort with counting. Throughout our history the numbering of people was greeted with great hesitation.

We do not live in such times. We count how many friends we have—on Facebook. We list how many followers we have—on Twitter. We have the Forbes 500. We make endless lists of people. We count our possessions. We count other people’s money, as well as our own.

We count how many members belong to our clubs, and our synagogues. The modern American Jewish scene appears obsessed with counting. How many Jews are there? Is it only 12 million, or perhaps 14 million? This is of course understandable. It was not so long ago that we lost six million. How many more would we be if not for the Holocaust? How different the Jewish landscape might be if not for our calamitous loss 65 years ago.

But in the near obsession with tallying our numbers we may lose our essence. This is why the tradition does not allow us to actually count towards a minyan. Instead we use a biblical verse with ten words. Psalm 28 is among the favorite choices: “Save Your people and bless Your treasured; care for them and sustain them forever.” If we cannot complete the verse then we do not have the required number and the community is not “sustained”. This is preferred over counting one, two, three…

By contrast today every birthday is considered momentous occasions. My grandparents however were never 100% sure of their birthdays. When it became more commonplace to celebrate birthdays it was miraculously determined that they were both born on the same day in the same year.

For their generation counting was seen as bad luck. But we live in an age when we are over confident with our blessings. Counting everything suggests such unwarranted confidence. Perhaps it would be wise to take the tradition’s caution to heart. We might be better served not to count so much. In fact counting does not add meaning to our lives.

It is not the number of friends one is surrounded with, but the depth of friendships. It is not the size of the congregation, but the spirit of the community. It is not the number of awards, or grades, or wealth, but whether or not we succeed in bringing blessings to the world around us. These are my beliefs.

This week we also find ourselves nearing the ending of the counting of the Omer. We count from Passover to Shavuot (the holiday celebrated in two weeks on June 7^th). The tradition is that we count the days, as we would count towards a birthday, until we receive the Torah on Mount Sinai. Shavuot of course celebrates the giving of the Torah. Passover celebrates our freedom from Egypt. The two must be married to each other. And thus we count from freedom to its meaning.

Our freedom from Egypt finds meaning in the Torah. We only count to the gift of Torah. Only the meaning and depth of Torah is worthy of our counting. Everything else we would do well to observe the superstitions of old. Count far less. Focus instead on the people standing before us.

All we should count toward is meaning and depth. And all that can be found in Torah.

By the Numbers

2011-05-31T08:54:00.000-07:00

By the Numbers - by Liel Leibovitz > Tablet Magazine
A worthy read regarding Netanyahu's recent speech to Congress.

Ours, alas, is the era of unreal numbers, from the falsified spreadsheets of Bernie Madoff to the felonious schemes of the equally criminal yet tragically unpunished swindlers behind the subprime mortgage bubble. Bluffing discreetly on balance sheets is bad enough; do it in the open, on the largest imaginable stage, and we’re headed down a dangerous road.

Unfortunately, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s speech to a joint session of the Congress earlier this week was a master class of numeric (and other) inaccuracies. Because these things matter—they matter very much—let us, in the spirit of this week’s parasha, do the Jewish thing and set the record straight.

Netanyahu said: The vast majority of the 650,000 Israelis who live beyond the 1967 lines reside in neighborhoods and suburbs of Jerusalem and Greater Tel Aviv.
Actually, there are 304,569 Israelis living in the West Bank, according to the Israel Defense Forces. Add to that East Jerusalem—which, according to most credible sources, is home to about 200,000 Israelis—and you hit the 500,000 mark. Even if one chooses to be generous and give the prime minister these East Jerusalemites in his count, one has to wonder, as Jonathan Lis recently did in Haaretz, why Netanyahu, who later on in his speech roared that “Jerusalem must never again be divided,” would possibly choose to include the residents of the undividable capital in the overall tally of the contested populace.

In Judea and Samaria, the Jewish people are not foreign occupiers. We are not the British in India. We are not the Belgians in the Congo. This is the land of our forefathers, the Land of Israel, to which Abraham brought the idea of one God, where David set out to confront Goliath.
David, actually, swung his fateful sling in the valley of Elah, near modern-day Beit Shemesh, which is squarely within the boundaries of Israel proper. And if Netanyahu truly believes Israel is nothing like the Brits or the Belgians, he is welcome, of course, to do with the West Bank as had once been done with Jerusalem and the Golan Heights, and annex them. Until then, however, the prime minister has to choose: If he wishes to follow the Bible as his unsurpassable guide to realpolitik, let him declare so openly and allow his constituents to support or reject his theological aspirations. But if he wishes to guide the ship of state according to the acceptable, rational norms of Western democracies, all that blessed biblical stuff is, alas, rather irrelevant. Seen from that perspective, asserting martial law on a territory and its citizens, setting up an intricate bureaucracy of governance, oppressing any aspirations for self-governance, and insisting time and again that the natives are too corrupt and incompetent to govern themselves sounds like it’s one punch bowl away from feeling right at home at the Bengal Club.

But instead of hurling oneself against the firm wall of slurs and untruths Netanyahu erected in his Washington speech, let us read the parasha instead, and recall the spirit, sacred and fierce and urgent, that urges us to keep our accounting strict and strictly honest.

Netanyahu's and Obama's speeches are only the beginning of the debate. Given that we are unable to agree about the "facts" makes this discussion even more vexing.

MEMRI TV Clip #2949

2011-05-27T10:43:00.000-07:00

Below is a depressing clip. In it Hamas Foreign Liaisons Chief Osama Hamdan states that armed confrontation will continue and that Israelis must return to their countries of origin.

How can peace be made with those who seek Israel's destruction? This is yet more evidence that the Hamas-Fatah accord is the single worst development in recent months. It is hard to watch this Western dressed spokesman offer his medieval views. What could possibly be wrong with two nations living side by side in peace?

Behar Sermon

2011-05-26T12:03:00.001-07:00

What follows is the sermon delivered on Friday, May 13.

The Torah portion makes clear that the land of Israel is particularly dear. It is of course the holy land. This is why it alone is granted a sabbatical year.

One might therefore think, especially with the success of modern Zionism, that only the land of Israel is holy. But in fact all lands are holy. The earth, the very ground beneath our feet, is holy.

Our blessings do not say, for example, “Thank You God for the fruit of Israel,” but instead “for the fruit of the earth—borei pri ha-adamah.” The Psalms declare, in a decidedly universal tone, “The earth is Adonai’s and all that it holds; the world and all its inhabitants. For God founded it upon the ocean, set on the farthest streams.” (Psalm 24)

The Hebrew word for earth here in this text is ha-aretz, the land. Yet the intention is clear. It is the earth, the world, all lands that is intended. Psalm 104 declares: “How many are the things You have made, O Lord; You have made them all with wisdom; the earth is full of Your creations.” This psalm goes on to provide a litany of God’s earthly creations.

Recently I have been thinking about this psalm and of course about the power of nature. Ironically it is often nature’s fury that reminds me of nature’s majesty. There were the tsunamis and tornadoes. And now there is the flooding of the Mississippi. We see on the news renewed evidence of the psalmist’s words: “You make springs gush forth in torrents; they make their way between the hills.”

The psalmist continually reminds us. “God looks at the earth and it trembles; God touches the mountains and they smoke.” And so I have no choice but to: “I will sing to the Lord as long as I live; all my life I will chant hymns to my God. May my prayer be pleasing to Him; I will rejoice in the Lord.”

As we again stand before the awesome power of nature, we have no choice but to sing God’s praises. At times that is all that can rescue us from the earth’s recent fury. We require such reverence not only before God but before nature.

For too long we have believed that we are masters of nature, that we can control nature, that we can tame the mighty Mississippi. But its name alone should suggest otherwise. We can build better locks and dams and even higher levees, but nature cannot be tamed. In fact some have suggested that our lock and dam system has made catastrophic floods more likely. Furthermore we know now that these dams prevent vital nutrients from reaching the river’s delta.

I am not of course suggesting that we give up this effort entirely. Reverence combined with knowledge would be a much better approach. We would do well to remind ourselves of God’s admonition to Job: “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundations? Speak if you have understanding.”

And so we must relearn this truth. All lands are indeed holy. It is not just one land. It is not just our backyard but all the earth. Zionism implies that only one land is holy. In fact Israel’s Declaration of Independence has contributed to this misunderstanding when it states: “Eretz Yisrael, the Land of Israel, was the birthplace of the Jewish people. Here their spiritual, religious and political identity was shaped.”

But this is inaccurate and a misreading of history. The Torah was given in Sinai, in the wilderness. It was given there to make clear that it was given to all. It was given there moreover so that no land could claim the Torah as its alone.

Eretz Yisrael, the land of Israel, is of course my favorite land. It is my favorite because so much of Jewish history occurred there. I love nothing more than to hike its wadis and play in its waterfalls. But it is not the only land.

The reverence for the land that the sabbatical year suggests is something that we must apply to all lands. We must restore a reverence for the earth and the land. We can no longer afford to do whatever we want with any l and. And so let us restore a reverence for the earth in our hearts and souls.

PM Netanyahu's Speech Take 2

2011-05-26T10:35:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday, Benjamin Netanyahu addressed the US Congress. The entire speech can be found here. It was an excellent speech in which he made a number of important points. Here are a few of his words. My commentary again follows. In bold are what I believe to be his most significant statements.

Israel has no better friend than America. And America has no better friend than Israel. We stand together to defend democracy. We stand together to advance peace. We stand together to fight terrorism. Congratulations America, Congratulations, Mr. President. You got bin Laden. Good riddance!

In an unstable Middle East, Israel is the one anchor of stability. In a region of shifting alliances, Israel is America’s unwavering ally. Israel has always been pro-American. Israel will always be pro-American.

…Of those 300 million Arabs, less than one-half of one-percent are truly free, and they're all citizens of Israel!

This startling fact reveals a basic truth: Israel is not what is wrong about the Middle East. Israel is what is right about the Middle East.

Israel fully supports the desire of Arab peoples in our region to live freely. We long for the day when Israel will be one of many real democracies in the Middle East.

Militant Islam threatens the world. It threatens Islam. I have no doubt that it will ultimately be defeated. It will eventually succumb to the forces of freedom and progress. But like other fanaticisms that were doomed to fail, militant Islam could exact a horrific price from all of us before its inevitable demise.

Leaders who spew such venom, should be banned from every respectable forum on the planet. But there is something that makes the outrage even greater: The lack of outrage. In much of the international community, the calls for our destruction are met with utter silence. It is even worse because there are many who rush to condemn Israel for defending itself against Iran’s terror proxies.

As for Israel, if history has taught the Jewish people anything, it is that we must take calls for our destruction seriously. We are a nation that rose from the ashes of the Holocaust. When we say never again, we mean never again. Israel always reserves the right to defend itself.

The peace agreements with Egypt and Jordan are vital. But they're not enough. We must also find a way to forge a lasting peace with the Palestinians. Two years ago, I publicly committed to a solution of two states for two peoples: A Palestinian state alongside the Jewish state.

I am willing to make painful compromises to achieve this historic peace. As the leader of Israel, it is my responsibility to lead my people to peace.

This is not easy for me. I recognize that in a genuine peace, we will be required to give up parts of the Jewish homeland. In Judea and Samaria, the Jewish people are not foreign occupiers. We are not the British in India. We are not the Belgians in the Congo.

This is the land of our forefathers, the Land of Israel, to which Abraham brought the idea of one God, where David set out to confront Goliath, and where Isaiah saw a vision of eternal peace. No distortion of history can deny the four thousand year old bond, between the Jewish people and the Jewish land.

But there is another truth: The Palestinians share this small land with us. We seek a peace in which they will be neither Israel’s subjects nor its citizens. They should enjoy a national life of dignity as a free, viable and independent people in their own state. They should enjoy a prosperous economy, where their creativity and initiative can flourish.

So now here is the question. You have to ask it. If the benefits of peace with the Palestinians are so clear, why has peace eluded us? Because all six Israeli Prime Ministers since the signing of Oslo accords agreed to establish a Palestinian state. Myself included. So why has peace not been achieved? Because so far, the Palestinians have been unwilling to accept a Palestinian state, if it meant accepting a Jewish state alongside it.

You see, our conflict has never been about the establishment of a Palestinian state. It has always been about the existence of the Jewish state. This is what this conflict is about. In 1947, the United Nations voted to partition the land into a Jewish state and an Arab state. The Jews said yes. The Palestinians said no. In recent years, the Palestinians twice refused generous offers by Israeli Prime Ministers, to establish a Palestinian state on virtually all the territory won by Israel in the Six Day War.

They were simply unwilling to end the conflict. And I regret to say this: They continue to educate their children to hate. They continue to name public squares after terrorists. And worst of all, they continue to perpetuate the fantasy that Israel will one day be flooded by the descendants of Palestinian refugees.

My friends, this must come to an end. President Abbas must do what I have done. I stood before my people, and I told you it wasn’t easy for me, and I said… "I will accept a Palestinian state." It is time for President Abbas to stand before his people and say… "I will accept a Jewish state."

So I say to President Abbas: Tear up your pact with Hamas! Sit down and negotiate! Make peace with the Jewish state! And if you do, I promise you this. Israel will not be the last country to welcome a Palestinian state as a new member of the United Nations. It will be the first to do so.

In essence Netanyahu clarified a number of points. Israel is willing to withdraw from a good portion of the West Bank, as long as security guarantees are made, including maintaining an Israeli military presence on Jordan’s border. Israel would retain the large settlement blocs of Ariel, Gush Etzion and Maale Adumim. Israel would forever retain control of the entirety of Jerusalem. This would write the majority of Israelis living outside the Green Line within the State of Israel’s borders. Furthermore the Palestinian refugee problem would be solved within the newly created Palestinian state. All of these points appear self-evident. In reality Netanyahu’s positions offered clarification of what Obama suggested in his speech of last week. All of this has been the formula for at least the last ten years. Two times Israelis and Palestinians were near reaching an agreement. Creative solutions, different from Netanyahu’s positions, were then offered regarding the refugees and Jerusalem. One such proposal suggested that a peace agreement would philosophically affirm the Palestinian positions on these issues but hue to the Israel position in terms of practice.

I fear that Netanyahu’s speech is closer to the truth. Although much of the world views Israel as the stumbling block to peace, the Palestinians and their Arab leaders have created this “catastrophe.” If Abbas were to come to the Knesset, as Sadat did, and loudly and unequivocally affirm the Jewish State, he would win over the majority of Israelis. The question is what Netanyahu can do in order to nurture such a move. What can Netanyahu do to support the likes of Salam Fayyad? Time is not on our side.

To be very honest part of the problem is that the world has not by and large bought into the Jewish vision of the State of Israel. It has affirmed the democratic foundations of the state. If these democratic foundations continue to be eroded we will most certainly lose even more of the world’s support. Would we want to go it alone? Moreover, are we willing to sacrifice these democratic principles?

Bamidbar

2011-05-26T08:35:00.001-07:00

This week we begin reading the fourth book of the Torah, Bamidbar, called in English, Numbers. It is a book filled with a variety of stories. The people will spend this book journeying through the wilderness (midbar), preparing to cross the Jordan River into the Promised Land. This 40 year journey, its challenges and triumphs, are preparation for what lies ahead, in particular the battles with the Canannites and those who occupy the land of Israel. There is the story of the spies scouting the land. There are moments when the people lose faith and question the purpose of their mission. There are as well other moments when the people rebel against Moses. And there is this week’s opening chapter, a census of the Israelites.

The plain meaning of the census is clear. It is a mustering of the troops. Each tribe is counted, with the exception of the Levites. Their sole purpose was to tend to the tabernacle and its ritual objects and therefore need not be counted as part of the army. “Those are the enrollments recorded by Moses and Aaron and by the chieftains of Israel, who were twelve in number, one man to each ancestral house. All the Israelites, aged twenty years and over, enrolled by ancestral houses, all those in Israel who were able to bear arms—all who were enrolled came to 603,550.” (Numbers 1:44-46) What an apparently large army that was!

Yet regardless of the army’s size, the Bible suggests that there is only one reason why Israel succeeds on the battlefield. “On that occasion, when the Lord routed the Amorites before the Israelites, Joshua addressed the Lord; he said in the presence of the Israelites: ‘Stand still, O sun, at Gibeon, O moon, in the Valley of Aiyalon!’ And the sun stood still and the moon halted, while a nation wreaked judgment on its foes…” (Joshua 10:12-13) Ultimately it is God who leads the fight for Israel’s army of 600,000.

When the modern State of Israel was founded its Jewish population was slightly more than this ancient number. In today’s Israel it is therefore difficult to ignore ancient tropes in its modern achievements. That is the country’s power. That is the nation’s pull. It is also of course its danger.

How do we read the Bible and find meaning in its words while not becoming intoxicated by its rhythms? How can the modern State of Israel remain Jewish while not as well become a land ruled by Joshuas? Let me be honest and forthright. Joshua was an extraordinary leader for ancient times. He took the reins from Moses and successfully led the Israelites into battle for the Promised Land. Under his leadership the Torah’s promise of living in the land of Israel was achieved.

Yet Joshua must not serve as a template for a modern leader. Why? The answer is simple. He was no democratic ruler. The State of Israel must be both Jewish and democratic in order for it to survive in the modern age. It must be Jewish and democratic in order for it to fulfill the vision of its Zionist founders.

As I read this week’s portion I find myself torn. The Bible will always have great pull on my soul. But I must not allow it to rule over my life. It can be a great source of unending inspiration, but never the final answer to all modern questions.

And so given this week’s news, I turn as well to its words to draw strength for the future. Joshua charges the people: “Be strong and resolute; do not be terrified or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9) Joshua’s actions might give me pause. His words continue to offer inspiration.

Yom Haatzmaut Meditation

2011-05-24T10:34:00.000-07:00

On Friday, May 6 we observed Yom Yaatzmaut. I wrote a meditation exploring our 3,000 year connection to the city of Jerusalem. In this meditation I explored this history through the Bible, Siddur, medieval poetry and modern songs. Natalie Tenenbaum composed a beautiful musical piece for piano and clarinet, expertly played by Vasko Dukovski, to give expression to my words and the varied texts I selected. The voice of the clarinet especially gave expression to those joyful times, like the present, when we can touch the land. The chords of the piano helped to give voice to the words of the prayerbook and poets. What follows is a brief excerpt from the meditation’s conclusion.

Then in our own day the dream is realized. There are no more dangers of sea travel. We can board a plane and in less than one day touch the soil of eretz yisrael, the land and cities our ancestors only dreamed of. The place is different than the dreams of our prayerbooks and poets. The earthly is not all dreams, but the baruch of successive generations keeps it alive in our hearts. L’hiyot am chofshi b’artzeinu. To be a free people in our own land.

The poet of the modern age is Yehudah Amichai. He too writes about women and love. He also writes poem after poem about the city in which he lives, Jerusalem.

Jerusalem is a merry-go-round-and-round

From the Old City through all the neighborhoods and back to the Old.

And you can’t get off. Whoever jumps off puts his life on the line

And whoever gets off at the final round has to pay again

To get back on for the rounds that have no end.

And instead of elephants and painted horses to ride,

There are religions that go up and down and turn on their axis

To the music of oily tunes from the houses of prayer.

Jerusalem is a seesaw; sometimes I dip down

Into past generations, sometimes I rise up to the skies and then

I shriek like a child, feet swinging on high:

I want down, Daddy, I want down,

Abba, get me down.

And that’s how the saints all ascend to heaven,

Like a child screaming, Daddy, I want to stay up here.

Abba, don’t get me down, Avinu Malkeinu,

Leave us up here, Avinu Malkeinu.

And there are days here when everything is sails and more sails,

Even though there’s no sea in Jerusalem, not even a river.

Everything is sails: the flags, the tallisim, the black coats,

The monks’ robes, the kaftans and kaffiyehs,

Young women’s dresses and headdresses,

Torah mantles and prayer rugs, feelings that swell in the wind

And hopes that set them sailing in other directions.

Even my father’s hands, spread out in blessing

[Baruch shem kavod malchuto l’olam va-ed.]

My mother’s broad face and Ruth’s faraway death

Are sails, all of them sails in the splendid regatta

On the two seas of Jerusalem:

The sea of memory and the sea of forgetting.

Amicha writes poem after poem. How to reconcile the dreams with the reality? How does the heavenly Jerusalem mingle with the earthly?

In the Spring of 1967 Jerusalem’s mayor, Teddy Kollek, organized a song competition. The theme was Jerusalem. Naomi Shemer submitted a song, “Jerusalem of Gold.” The song won the competition at the Musical Festival celebrating Israel’s nineteen years of statehood. Three weeks later, in the early days of June, Israel won the Six Day War and captured Jerusalem’s Old City from the Jordanians. The song immediately became the anthem for the war. The image of crying soldiers standing at the Western Wall became part of the Jewish people’s collective memory.

Shemer added a new concluding verse:

We have returned to the cisterns,

to the market and to the square.

A shofar calls out on the Temple Mount in the Old City.

And in the caves in the rock, thousands of suns shine.

We will once again descend to the Dead Sea by way of Jericho.

Yerushalayim shel zahav,

Jerusalem of gold, of bronze, and of light,

am I not a harp and lyre for all your songs.

We have stood on Jerusalem’s walls. We have said with prior generations:

Baruch shem kavo malchuto l’olam va-ed.

Our generation is the same, yet different. Our Jerusalem is happiness built on ruins. Many still cry and lament for what was lost. They mourn for dreams unrealized, prayers unfulfilled, for a Temple and its sacrifices still not restored. I instead will only say a blessing for what has been gained. I will no longer mourn. I will revel in the songs of thousands and thousands of Jews. I will rejoice that we have returned to this city, the city of Jerusalem, a city of heaven and earth. I will recall that today, in this unique and blessed age, Jerusalem is no longer in ruins. There may very well be untold ruins beneath the feet. But there is no ruin in the air. Jerusalem is happiness built on ruins.

From Solomon until now one unbroken chain. Sometimes a cry. Sometimes a song.

Always the word Baruch. Always the people said as one: Baruch shem kavod malchuto l’olam va-ed. We say with our people: Baruch shem kavod malchuto l’olam va-ed.

We say today a blessing. We are again a free people in our own land, standing again in our city of Jerusalem.

PM Netanyahu's Speech

2011-05-24T08:49:00.000-07:00

What follows is Prime Minister Netanyahu's remarks at the AIPAC Policy Conference. You can watch the video here. This speech was delivered last night. Again I have highlighted what I believe to be his most important statements. My commentary follows. I await his address to the US Congress scheduled for today.

My friends,

To all our supporters in this great hall and to the millions of supporters across this great land, the people of Israel thank you. Thank you for your staunch commitment to Israel's security. Thank you for defending Israel's right to defend itself. Thank you for standing by Israel as it seeks a secure peace.

Now, I heard tonight from all the speakers something that you know - that Israel is America's indispensable ally. You understand that Israel and America stand shoulder to shoulder fighting common enemies, protecting common interests. You know that Israeli innovators help power computers, fight disease, conserve water, clean the planet. Your support for Israel flows from the heart.

You see, it's not just what Israel does. It's what Israel is. Now, let me explain that. Yesterday I had a great day. They let me out. Sara and I could actually go for a walk. And I have to congratulate the American security services. They're a little more generous than ours. So we walked along the Potomac and we got to visit Washington's majestic memorials. I read Jefferson's timeless words, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal." I read Lincoln's immortal address, "government of the people, for the people, by the people."

Now, let me tell you why these words resonate so powerfully with me and with all Israelis - because they're rooted in ideas first championed by our people, the Jewish people, the idea that all men are created in God's image, that no ruler is above the law, that everyone is entitled to justice. These are revolutionary Jewish ideas, and they were spoken thousands of years ago - when vast empires ruled the earth, vast slave empires ruled the world. And the Jews spoke these truths.

Israel is the cradle of our common civilization. It's the crucible of our common values. And the modern state of Israel was founded precisely on these eternal values. And this is why Israel's more than 1 million Muslims enjoy full democratic rights. This is why the only place in the Middle East where Christians are completely free to practice their faith is the democratic State of Israel. And this is why Israel, and only Israel, can be trusted to ensure the freedom for all faiths in our eternal capital, the united city of Jerusalem.

My friends, Israel and America have drawn from these deep well springs of our common values. We forged an enduring friendship not merely between our governments, but between our peoples. Support for Israel doesn't divide America. It unites America. It unites the old and the young, liberals and conservatives, Democrats and Republicans. And, yes, Joe Lieberman, it even unites independents. I want to take this opportunity to salute one of the great senators in my lifetime, a man who's given unbelievable service to his country, America, and has been unbelievably dedicated to Israel and the Jewish people. Thank you, Joe Lieberman.

You see, this broad support for Israel in the United States is a tremendous help and gives tremendous strength to my country. And since Harry Truman, Israel has looked to American presidents to stand by it as we meet the unfolding challenges of a changing world.

Yesterday President Obama spoke about his ironclad commitment to Israel's security. He rightly said that our security cooperation is unprecedented. He spoke of that commitment not just in front of AIPAC. He spoke about it in two speeches heard throughout the Arab world. And he has backed those words with deeds.

I know these are tough economic times. So I want to thank the president and Congress for providing Israel with vital assistance so that Israel can defend itself by itself. I want to thank you all for supporting the Iron Dome missile defense system. A few weeks ago, Hamas terrorists in Gaza fired eight rockets at our cities, at Ashkelon and Beer Sheva. Now, these rockets never reached their targets. Iron Dome intercepted them in midair. For the first time, a missile defense system worked in combat. That's a precedent in military history. And I want to say thank you, America.

America and Israel are cooperating in many other ways as well. We're cooperating in science, in technology, in trade, in investment. It's not only American companies that are investing in Israel. It's Israeli companies investing in America. In the last decade, Israeli companies have invested more than $50 billion in the United States. One of those companies is investing just down the road in Richmond. It's a company that is building a food factory. Now, here's what it means - more business, more jobs, and, yes, more hummus.

Well, it's not just food we're bringing to America. Take medicine. Israel is advancing cure for multiple sclerosis, Alzheimer's, cancer. We've developed mechanical means to make paraplegics walk again. We've placed a tiny diagnostic camera inside a pill. I have not swallowed it, but I understand it's quite effective. And you've just heard of this miraculous bandage developed by an Israeli company that has helped save Congresswoman Gabby Giffords' life. And I wish Gabby, a great friend of Israel, “Refuah Shlema”, a happy, quick, speedy recovery.

Israel and America are also cooperating to end the world's worst addiction, the addiction to oil. This dependence fuels terrorism. It poisons the planet. So we've launched a 10-year program in Israel to kick the habit, to find a substitute for gasoline. And if we succeed, we can change the world. We can change history.

My friends, the American people's support for Israel is reflected in my invitation to address a joint meeting of Congress tomorrow. I will talk about the great convulsion taking place in the Middle East, the risks and the opportunities. And I will talk about the dangers of a nuclear-armed Iran. And I will also outline a vision for a secure Israeli-Palestinian peace. I intend to speak the unvarnished truth because now, more than ever, what we need is clarity.

Events in the region are opening people's eyes to a simple truth: The problems of the region are not rooted in Israel. The remarkable scenes we're witnessing in town squares across the Middle East and North Africa are occurring for a simple reason: People want freedom. They want progress. They want a better life.

For many of the peoples of the region, the 20th century skipped them by. And now 21st century technology is telling them what they missed out on. You remember that desperate food vendor in Tunis? Why did he set himself on fire? Not because of Israel. He set himself on fire because of decades of indignity, decades of intolerable corruption.

And the millions who poured into the streets of Tehran, Tunis, Cairo, Sanaa, Benghazi, Damascus, they're not thinking about Israel. They're thinking of freedom. They're yearning for opportunity. They're yearning for hope for themselves and for their children. So it's time to stop blaming Israel for all the region's problems.

Let me stress one thing. Peace between Israelis and Palestinians is a vital interest for us. It would be the realization of a powerful and eternal dream. But it is not a panacea for the endemic problems of the Middle East. It will not give women in some Arab countries the right to drive a car. It will not prevent churches from being bombed. It will not keep journalists out of jail.

What will change this? One word: Democracy - real, genuine democracy. And by democracy, I don't just mean elections. I mean freedom of speech, freedom of press, freedom of assembly, the rights for women, for gays, for minorities, for everyone. What the people of Israel want is for the people of the Middle East to have what you have in America, what we have in Israel - democracy. So it's time to recognize this basic truth. Israel is not what's wrong with the Middle East. Israel is what's right about the Middle East.

My friends, we want peace because we know the pain of terror and we know the agony of war. We want peace because we know the blessings peace could bring - what it could bring to us and to our Palestinian neighbors. But if we hope to advance peace with the Palestinians, then it's time that we admitted another truth. This conflict has raged for nearly a century because the Palestinians refuse to end it. They refuse to accept the Jewish state.

Now, this is what this conflict has always been about. There are many issues linked to this conflict that must be resolved between Israelis and Palestinians. We can, we must, resolve them. But I repeat: We can only make peace with the Palestinians if they're prepared to make peace with the Jewish state.

Tomorrow in Congress, I'll describe what a peace between a Palestinian state and the Jewish state could look like. But I want to assure you of one thing. It must leave Israel with security. And therefore, Israel cannot return to the indefensible 1967 lines.

I'll talk about these and other aspects of peace tomorrow in Congress. But tonight I want to express Israel's gratitude for all you are doing to help strengthen Israel and the great alliance that Israel has with America. You helped maintain our qualitative military edge. You backed sanctions against Iran. You supported genuine peace. You opposed Hamas. And you've joined President Obama and me in denouncing Hamas and demanding that it release our captive soldier, Gilad Shalit. That's another outrageous crime of Hamas. Just imagine keeping a young soldier locked in a dark dungeon for five years without even a single visit - not a single visit of the Red Cross. I think that the entire civilized community should join Israel and the United States and all of us in a simple demand from Hamas: Release Gilad Shalit.

My friends, I spent my high-school years in Philadelphia. I understand it's developed quite a bit since then. But during those years, when it was a sleepier town, I used to go visit the Liberty Bell. Now, as Prime Minister of Israel, I can walk down the street and see an exact replica of that bell in Jerusalem's Liberty Park. On both bells is the same inscription. It comes from the Bible, from the book of Leviticus , “U’kratem Dror BaAretz L’chol Yoshveha”, “Proclaim liberty throughout the land.” My dear friends, this is the essence of the great alliance between our two nations - two peoples bonded in liberty and seeking freedom and peace for all. That's what this alliance is all about. And you are part of it. You maintain it.

I thank you on behalf of the people of Israel and the government of Israel. Thank you for the American-Israel alliance. Thank you, AIPAC.

Netanyahu reiterated the foundations of the US-Israel alliance. He emphasized that more than anything else it is based on shared values. Not only are Israel and the US united in fighting terrorism but this alliance benefits the United States in terms of military and technological know how. Most importantly Netanyahu emphasized that Israel is not the cause of the recent unrest in the Arab world. It is instead based on the denial of democratic rights. On this point especially Netanyahu is correct. There is a tendency to pressure Israel to make changes because Israel listens and is sensitive to rebuke. The central issue remains that far too many in the Arab Middle East live in oppressive regimes. Israel and the US should be joined in helping to nurture democracy!