Parshat Vayetze: What is Chanukah?

Mai Chanukah?  What is Chanukah?

There is no tractate of the Talmud that explains the entire story of Chanukah.  In fact, from the sound of the question above, "Mai Chanukah/What is Chanukah?," someone in the ancient academy wasn’t sure what it was, or possibly, what it meant.  Perhaps by the time the Rabbis recorded this discussion, nearly 700 years after the actual events, the students in the academy were wondering how their ancestors did something unprecedented, as with Purim, they created a holiday on their own. 

Can we imagine our calendar without it?  Some Jews could.

Like our ancestral parent Jacob who runs from Esau’s wrath and revenge, a group of Jews escaped from the Holy Land during the time Antiochus and his forces were persecuting the Jewish people. 

According to Rabbi Marvin Tokayer, three ships of Jews escaping the persecutions sailed south from Eilat.  They turned east around the Arabian Peninsula and continued east.  They approached the shores of India and there collided with rock formations in the water.  Out of hundreds who had escaped, only 14 floated to shore.  They lingered there and over the next days the ocean pushed out many of their compatriots who lost their lives.  They buried their fellow Jews there and wandered into the jungle, an unknown territory to where they found a village, and the villagers warmly welcomed them.  That cemetery is still there today.

Nearly 2,000 years later, a Jewish businessman working for the Dutch East India Company was in that territory for the firm.  When he approach the locals, he began to describe his personal needs during his two to three week stay – regarding Shabbat, and food, and all the locals said, “Sure, we already know these things.”  How did they know?  They described their neighbors who also followed these practices.  The man went to meet the neighbors.  They did indeed know about Shabbat.  They did know about Kosher even though they could not remember how to perform the slaughter properly anymore.  They only remembered 2 words of their ancient language, ‘Shema Yisrael’.  They called themselves, ‘Bnai Yisrael’, the Children of Israel.  The businessman asked them about their religious calendar, and they listed all the holidays – except one.

They listed all the holidays except Chanukah.

Why?

Because they left the Holy Land before the struggle was over, before fellow Jews declared the holiday after the victory and rededication of the Temple.

The Bnai Yisrael eventually migrated to the east where they reunited with their fellow Jews, and now there are 90,000 Bnai Yisrael in the State of Israel, and only some 5,000 Jews left in India, and none younger than 42 years old.  But it’s worth mentioning that in southern India, though there are no longer school children in any school in that region – they do not give exams on the Jewish holidays in recognition of the contributions, the honor and the dignity the Jewish community brought to the country.

Could we imagine our winters without Chanukah without the lights, the games, the food, and songs?

More than that, could we imagine our Jewish story without the courage of Matityahu and his sons?

The Bnai Yisrael did not know the outcome.  They did not know we won out in the end and held onto our sovereignty in the Land for 80 years afterwards.

Jacob also does not know the end of his story.  We read this week; “Vayidar Yakov neder…Jacob makes a vow, saying, if God protects me on this journey I am making…”

If God protects me…

It sounds like Jacob is not sure God will be there along the way.  It sounds as though Jacob needs reassurance.

Jacob wants to know God is really there.

The Bnai Yisrael, as Rabbi Tokayer explains, had no contact with other Jews for 2,000 years.  They survived that long on their ancient memories and two Hebrew words, “Shema Yisrael”.

We have plenty of Hebrew and other words to support our Jewish identity.  We have plenty of holidays, events, books, resources and more – far more than the Bnai Yisrael had.

And so what can we learn from them, and from our ancestor Jacob (who also has little to nothing with him on his journey)?

First, Judaism is not a religion about how much do we know or not know.  Level of knowledge is not the metric by which we should evaluate ourselves.

Next, Judaism at its core teaches that life is sacred and valuable; that each breath we take is a blessing of revitalizing energy that we can use to do one more mitzvah.  Each soul is valuable, and while we may not all agree and get along, we can still see those with whom we disagree as having a soul and something to contribute to this world.

And then Judaism teaches us that time is not an illusion, and time, like life, is sacred and valuable.  Shabbat reminds us of this fact as we choose to make one day different to show that, maybe, all other days could be different, too, that all other days could be filled with prayer, community, and an appreciation of the creation that is us and that surrounds us but that, in our daily running, we do not always see.

We come here on Shabbat to reaffirm these central beliefs of our faith but also to reaffirm belief in ourselves – that each of us is a leader who can carry the message, no matter how difficult the road is.  Like Jacob, the Maccabbees, and the Bnai Yisrael, we’re always walking uphill but happily so, singing the praises of the Creator who enables us each day to have a chance to bring our vision of kedushah, holiness, to our community and even to the furthest reaches of the globe.

After the Election: What happens now?

Over the past two weeks since the Presidential election, I've read countless reactions to the election itself, reflections on the State of the country, and reactions appointees to Cabinet and White House posts.  Responses across the country have ranged from reflective thinking and writing to boisterous protests.

As an American citizen, I'm concerned at every change of administration, perhaps more so on some occasions than others.  Will the candidates fulfill their campaign pledges?  Will a spirit of unity carry us forward no matter who wins?  Will my future and my children's future be more safe and secure?

The rhetoric and tone of this particular election was harsh, worse than mudslinging I'd heard in previous elections, but maybe only worse in degrees at this level since equally repugnant mudslinging  was happening in other elections, and in local politics where I live now it seems that there are few public officials who are not under indictments for corruption.

I'm reminded of a billboard sign that used to hang next to the Delaware Memorial Bridge.  It read, "Calm down!  Anxiety fuels recessions."  Many today feel that 'keep calm' is not wise advice.  Many today feel we must speak up and speak out.  This response does fit will within the American democratic spirit.  We cannot dispute the election results themselves, unless compelling evidence arises, but we must always be ready to make sure that those who represent us know well what values we expect to drive policy-making decisions and votes.

The thoughts I'm expressing here were motivated by a passage I read in Malcolm Gladwell's 2013 book David and Goliath (Published by Little Brown & Company).  He shares the story of Andre Trocme, a Huguenot Pastor, who was serving the the village of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon during the World War 2 years.  At the first Sunday service following Germany's occupation of France, Trocme preached a sermon:  "Loving, forgiving, and doing good to our adversaries is our duty.  Yet we must do this without giving up, and without being cowardly.  We shall resist whenever our adversaries demand of us obedience contrary to the orders of the Gospel.  We shall do so without fear, but also without pride and without hate." (Gladwell, 2013, p. 264)

Trocme's heartfelt and defiant tone strikes a balance between maintaining the open-heartedness that faith demands while also calling up the courage that faith also asks us to have in the face of adversity.

Pastor Trocme's spirit can be a guide for us as we gauge how we will conduct ourselves and how we will respond to the varieties of challenges our country faces now.  His approach enabled his parishioners to save the lives of 5,000 refugees, of which 3,000-3,500 were Jews.

May we have the strength to live out his spirit and message today.

Noah - We're all in the same boat

We’ve all heard the expression, we’re all in the same boat.

Meaning, we’re all in the same situation.  No one has any advantage over anyone else.  The same challenges, the same benefits.

Some have speculated the expression comes from the sinking of the Titanic, when upper class passengers found themselves, literally, in the same boat as steerage passengers.  Everyone was together, and in that togetherness, status itself was not relevant or significant.

As we approach election day, I cannot help but think about our country in light of the story of Noah that we read from today.  Noah, his wife Na’amah, his children and their families, all are together, along with all the animals of the world – all in the same boat.

Let’s clarify one significant point about the word ‘boat’.  An Ark is not a boat.  It does not have a rudder.  It does not have oars for steering.  Like a rubber ducky in the bathtub, the Ark goes where the current takes it – really, where God directs it.  And so when Noah, Na’mah, and family say, ‘We’re in the same boat’ – It’s an even stronger expression because they are completely in God’s hands.

I cannot help but think about our country as the boat.

And all of us, of different backgrounds, different political beliefs, different levels of Jewish identification, we all are living under the laws of this country, and, we’re responsible for keeping those laws and creating community here no matter who gets elected to local, state, and federal offices.

After the election on Tuesday, no matter the result, it will be up to us to decide what will be the next meaningful steps to strengthening the democracy in which we live so that we can continue to shape our country, and so our children will have the chance to shape our country when they’re ready for voting and civic action.

Clearly, not all human beings got onto the boat, only Noah and his family.  The Torah describes the rest of the world as lawless and corrupt, and, sadly, tragically, unworthy of being saved.  While this is a story, it is a difficult story, one that reminds us how many people, good people, righteous people, even right here in our own community, feel left out, without a sense of belonging or connection.  Like those swept away by the floodwaters, so many people with meaningful ideas and energy they want to give, never get the chance.

The Rabbis imagined that the wicked generation of the flood surround the Ark and are trying to smash it, break it, destroy it, as the rains start to fall.  God steps to protect Noah’s family – the lions and bears retaliate, and God closes them in. 

But let’s reimagine this teaching.  Let’s reimagine it as the people outside the Ark are the people who would like to be part of the community, part of the Jewish community.  They would like to participate, volunteer, learn, just feel more Jewish but they don’t know how or just cannot find the right bridge or entry point.

And in this case, let’s take our reimagining one step further – we open up the door to the Ark and we welcome them on board, with a hello, a handshake, and an invitation to look around. 

We’re here today for a variety of reasons – because we choose to be, because there’s a special occasion that draws us here, maybe someone else brought us.  My prayer is that when we leave, we take something with us, a feeling, a sense of connection, of being part of something special, and we invite one other person to join us the next time.  We invite someone else to our house on Friday to light candles together, to share a tasty challah.  We get together in a small group to study a topic of interest, to see how thousands of years of Jewish ideas and experiences can help us sort out the difficult questions.  We hold someone’s hand who may be sitting here with us but is far away emotionally, in a world of crisis and hurt, hold their hand just long enough so they know they’re not alone.

The story of Noah is a story of great loss.  Very few survive the cataclysm, a destruction made all the more powerful to behold because just last week we read Braysheet ba’ra, God created the world, and hineh tov me’od, behold God saw the world was very good.  How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly?

Now though we have a chance, together, in the same boat as we all are here in the USA, to reimagine our own surroundings, regardless of the result of the Tuesday election, to reimagine them as a place where our Jewish values set the tone instead of our fears, where we are constantly on the lookout for mitzvah opportunities, and where donkeys and elephants are just two examples of the wonders of God’s creation.

Bi'ray'sheet - Starting the Torah reading again -- 5777/2016

One of my favorite urban legend stories, urban legend only because I cannot verify it, comes from Jewish Theological Seminary, my school in the City.

It’s told that one of the Bible professors, a rather quiet soul – a great writer but not a very engaging teacher – was known to enter the classroom at the time the session was to begin, and he would start to teach without paying much attention to who was in the class, nor for the formalities of greetings and check-ins.  The story goes that one day, none of his students showed up for the session, and without looking up, and as usual, he started teaching to an empty room.

This teacher may have said amazing things, but without anyone to hear them, the message will fall flat. 

The same is true with God – out of an empty universe, God creates a world, full of life, full of color, and with us, students, partners, living images of Godself.

We’re here not to take God’s place and pretend to be the masters.

Our goals are different. 

We’re here to hear, to listen to God’s voice ringing out from the moment of creation, from the moment that the Rabbis teach us God looked into the Torah itself as a blueprint and created the world we can see (Pesikta Zutarta Gen 1:1) – from the moment God created the world for the merit of the Torah as the first word is B’raysheet, and Torah itself is known as ‘ray’sheet’, as it says in Proverbs, God created the ‘ray’sheet’, the beginning, of God’s way before creation.(Midrash Rabbah)

And so we are here to listen to the Torah again, to pay attention, make mental notes, and most of all to internalize the message again this year as we begin to hear today the first of the 54 weekly Torah portions.

For more than 2,000 years Jewish communities have established the regular chanting of the Torah. 

The custom may have begun as early as the 3^rd century Before the Common Era, since the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Torah was intended for public reading.

But we do not read out loud anymore.  Others do – While I don’t agree theologically with them, I do admire the motivation and passion of those Christians who hop onto the subway trains in New York, open their bibles, and preach the word of God on the train ride.  I’ve seen this a few times and felt the surge of feeling, not the intellectual feeling of coaxing meaning out of the Torah verses, but the reverence for the presence of God in the words, for the good energy that flows from the sense that God cared enough to share wisdom with us so that we could have a way of becoming the people and the nation God hoped we could be.

And we need this feeling now, in a critical time for our country and the Jewish people.

The rhetoric of the election, even in its final stages, suggests that it’s ok to say almost anything regardless of its truth or falsity, regardless of the impact of the words on others.  Many school districts across the country, especially in this election, are either cancelling classes on November 8^th or trying to move polling places outside of the school due to the contentious nature of the debate, with self-appointed groups planning to go to polling places in different cities to verify results.

The rhetoric from UNESCO that we discussed a couple of weeks ago continues to be harshly anti-Israel despite official statements from its director. 

As we begin to hear the Torah again, we know that we do not agree with every point, nor do we find immediate relevance in each story or passage, but we do find when we hear the words of Torah again the sense that we can rely on the Torah as a source of God’s Presence and power in the world – a reminder that we can lean on God, lean on each other, and find strength in the courage of generations past who negotiated some of the most tumultuous and oppressive eras of human history.  Shabbat Shalom.

Dvar Torah: Ki Tavo - Sharing is Caring?

1. Share everything.

2. Play fair.

3. Don't hit people.

4. Put things back where you found them.

5. CLEAN UP YOUR OWN MESS.

6. Don't take things that aren't yours.

7. Say you're SORRY when you HURT somebody.

8. Wash your hands before you eat.

9. Flush.

10. Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.

11. Live a balanced life - learn some and drink some and draw some and paint some and sing and dance and play and work everyday some.

12. Take a nap every afternoon.

13. When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.

14. Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Stryrofoam cup: The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.

15. Goldfish and hamster and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup - they all die. So do we.

16. And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first workd you learned - the biggest word of all - LOOK.”

― Robert Fulghum, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

The number one rule Fulghum learned in Kindergarten – share everything.

Sounds like a wonderful idea.

The Rabbis are not so sure.

They teach us, there are 4 types of people, exemplified by 4 statements about the way we think and relate to others with regard to our possessions.

What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is yours.  This is average and some say it’s the way of the people of Sodom.

What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine.  This is a simpleton.

What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is yours.  This is a reverent person.

What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is mine.  This is a wicked one.

According to the Rabbis, ‘share everything’ is the virtue of only a simpleton, someone disengaged, disconnected, often translated as ‘ignorant’. 

The reverent one, the Chasid, is considered such because he or she offers his or her things to others but does not expect anything in return.

I read a recent parenting article that suggested a similar lesson – That it is a better parenting technique not to expect siblings (or friends) to share what they have but to give them space to negotiate when and how they will share what they have – empowering them to make the decision.

(Let me pause here for a moment.  What do you think of this teaching?)

And so we find support also in our parsha that sharing everything, at least to start, is not always the best way to operate.

This week, as our parsha concludes, Moses, according to a tradition, hands over the Torah to the people, but according to this Midrash (Yalkut Shimoni 938) Moses hands over the Torah to his brothers and sisters the Tribe of Levi.  The others, the rest of the people, are not so happy about this.

They approach Moses and say, “Hey Moses, Our teacher,” (I added the Hey for effect)  We also were at Sinai, and the Torah was given to us, so why are you giving the Tribe of Levi authority over it?  And then the Levites will say to us tomorrow:  (Again I add for effect) Na, na-na-na-nah  The Torah wasn’t given to you, it was given to us!  - But Moses was happy about this…

Why was he happy?

He was happy because at that moment he knew that all the people of Israel are seeking to be closer, and wanting to love God. 

Once again, the lesson here is that to get to the point we all want to take part, that we all want to share in something special, first we may require going without it to make sure it’s what we really want.

We soon will welcome in a New Year together, and when we begin to think about our hopes and expectations for the New Year we can take a page from these two teachings, one from the Rabbis on the words of our parsha, and one from our Rabbis about the way people think and act in general.  We can take a page that reminds us to think very carefully about what we are seeking as we make the turn of teshuvah.  Are we dreaming, are we realistic, a little of both?  Are the ‘things’ we’re hoping for actual items or are we really searching for intangibles like peace of mind, strength, patience, clarity of thinking, and inspiration? 

We still have time to sort through our thoughts – and I invite you to join us Sunday evening at 7 for Selichot, a time when we’ll join together here in a smaller, intimate setting, in the round, to meditate, sing, pray, reflect, seek healing and take that necessary deep breath we need to clear away for a moment the cares of the day and begin to imagine what tomorrow could be.

And although I’’ve suggested I disagree with Robert Fulgum about share everything, I will promise Sunday evening that we’ll have milk and cookies – good for us, and good for the soul.  Shabbat Shalom.