Devarim 2022/5782: When is the most meaningful & potentially transformative time for us? Today!

 What time of the year, whether in the Jewish or the regular calendar, is most meaningful and important?  (Thoughts?)

 

In the Jewish calendar, we often think of the High Holidays, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and the days between them as the most meaningful, important, and the most likely to be a transformative time for self-growth and also for community building.

 

These days are significant, but our tradition suggests today, next Tuesday, or any other day, is equally full of promise, equally full of potential for transformation, for us, for our community, and beyond.

 

We see this lesson in a teaching of Rabbi Eliezer in the Mishnah – the background is Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are the season of teshuvah, repentance, reconciliation, forgiveness.  And during that time, there’s extra motivation to do this holy work.  

 

Now let’s hear from Rabbi Eliezer, he teaches “Ve’shuv yom echad lifney mi’tat’cha.”  “Do teshuvah one day before your death.”

 

Since we do not ever know this date, Rabbi Eliezer is teaching us to work on teshuvah every day, as a regular and ongoing part of our lives.

 

We may be thinking this morning about the individuals in DC who died by a lightning strike in Lafayette Park, near the White House.  Putting aside the fact we should always follow the lesson of ‘when thunder roars, head indoors’, this incident reminds us how quickly life can evaporate.

 

As we begin reading this week from the 5^th Book of the Torah, Devarim, the Book of Deuteronomy, Moses is aware he’s coming to the end of his life.  He’s doing his best to keep to Eliezer’s lesson, to prepare the people for crossing the Jordan, to fill them with hope, to remind them of the covenant, and to strengthen Joshua who will lead them across.

 

Our Torah reading this morning ends with Moses telling Joshua, “Do not fear [the kingdoms on the other side of the river]…for it is Ado-nai your God who will battle for you.”

 

Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin teaches us Moses is trying to encourage and strengthen Joshua for what lies ahead.

 

And we need the same encouragement and the same wishes for strength.  Doing teshuvah regularly is draining.  Teshuvah requires us to confront our weaknesses, our growing edges, and the times we made poor choices for what we said or did, or what we did not say or what we did not do.  It is a humbling spiritual exercise.

 

Starting tomorrow we will have seven weeks until Rosh Hashanah, seven weeks of regular weekdays and regular Shabbats.  This is a good time to focus our thoughts on what we had hoped to accomplish last year, and what areas of growth we want to pursue in the New Year.

 

As a tennis player I learned a lesson after a few years of playing the game – whoever has the ball on their side at the moment, for the most part, has the advantage and can decide what will happen next.

 

Rabbi Eliezer teaches us every day the ball is on our side of the court.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Parshat Pinchas: It's about time...

I’d like to try an exercise for our imaginations, try to imagine a world without time, not a world without clocks or even sundials and calendars, just an eternal now, but a world without time as we know it altogether?  Past, present, and future are all equally present.

 

Can you imagine this world?  What would it look like?  Or feel like?

 

The world and us would, for sure, be entirely different than what’s familiar to us, a jumble of everything that ever was, is, or could be, no sequential thoughts, so no memories.

 

For everything and everyone to exist in the way the Torah, and science, describe them, time is necessary, and the first thing God creates is a difference between day and night, signifying the passage of time making one day.

 

Because time is fundamental to creation, time is the source of all our celebrations – we literally celebrate the fact God enables us to recognize and make chosen times holy.  

 

This week, we read from the end of Parshat Pinchas, all about the festivals – Passover, Shavuot, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot.

 

The Torah instructs us to celebrate nearly all festivals at the full moon, the middle of the Hebrew month.  

 

Clearly these festivals coincide with the climate and produce growing cycle of the year as well as our memories of significant events that occurred at these times of year.  

 

And so they follow both a linear progression of time, the progression of ancient events that happened in sequence, and they follow a circular progression of time, as we celebrate the same holidays at the same season with the turning of each year.

 

Time then opens up our hearts and souls to holiness, to community, to God’s hand in creating and renewing the world, but time also limits our physical existence.  We’re born, we grow older, we die.  

 

It’s a dilemma – without time, our existence would be so fundamentally different, little to nothing of what we know or love would exist in any familiar form.  But with time, we find the days may be long but the years are short, and time disappears faster than we can notice it.

 

Our tradition teaches us the response to this dilemma is to savor time, to mark significant moments with friends and family, with the smells of special foods, with prayers and reflections reminding us of our obligations, encouraging us to strive in every moment to dedicate ourselves to doing mitzvot, holy actions, that transform the ‘now’ into the a more holy and harmonious ‘now’ and set an example for others to do the same.

 

Maimonides teaches us about the days of the Messiah:

It should not occur to you that during the days of the Messiah a single thing from the “ways of the world”¹³⁵I.e. Nature.will be canceled nor will there be something novel in the Creation. Rather, the world will continue in its customary way.

 

The relationship between people will change, there will be new knowledge and insight, but the nature of the world will continue – there will still be time.  And so Maimonides teaches us an essential, compelling lesson about us, about our world, and about the world we hope to create.

 

If the time of the Messiah is a time the world functions as we’re used to it, then the Messianic world, the renewed and redeemed world, can exist in every next moment.  The next minute, the next day, can be the renewed and redeemed world, and we can shape what that world will look like – correction, we are, even right now, shaping what that world will look like.

 

Let’s get to work, there’s no time to waste!

 

Parshat Korach: July 4th, Aaron's staff and the Faith of Confronting Life's Unknowns

 

O say does that Star Spangled Banner yet wave, o’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?

 

Francis Scott Key wrote these words while being held by the British on a ship.  He had been held on the ship all night, and in the morning, he saw Fort McHenry raise its immense garrison flag, 30 ft by 42 ft, and he knew the Americans had won the battle for Baltimore.  That flag was known as the Star-Spangled Banner, a flag originally made in Baltimore a year earlier by Mary Pickersgill.

 

The flag was the symbol of victory, of freedom renewed after this second war with England, and the latter-day version of this flag became the official flag of the United States.

 

At the beginning of our Torah reading this morning, God instructs Moses to put Aaron’s staff in the Mishkan, the Holy Place, at night.  The next morning, the staff has sprouted blossoms and almonds.  

 

Francis Scott Key sees the flag of victory flying over the Fort in the morning.  It’s a sign of victory.

 

Moses brings out Aaron’s staff in the morning, a walking stick that’s full of bright flowers and fresh almonds growing – not a sign of victory, but a sign of faith in God’s choice of Aaron and his descendants to serve as the priests for the people.

 

In both events, the outcome is unknown in the evening.  There is a time of waiting, wondering, uncertainty, anxiety, even fear.

 

And in both events, the morning brings hope and reassurance.

The Star-Spangled Banner flew in September, 1814 and continues to fly across the country.

 

And according to the midrash, the flowers and almonds that grew on Aaron’s staff never dried up and never fell off.

 

We ourselves face similar unknowns every evening.  As the sun goes down, and the darkness covers everything, we can turn on lights inside and out, put the TV on, play music.  We can do any number of things to push back against the literal and figurative darkness, but ultimately we know the way things will turn out is at least in some small part beyond our control.

 

Our ancestors write in the Book of Psalms, ba’erev yalin bechi, ve’la boker, rinah, tears may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning.  That is a hopeful vision.

 

Neither Moses nor Francis Scott Key were 100% certain of the outcome.  They both had to wait and wonder.

 

It goes without saying unknowns make us feel uneasy, unsettled.  It’s hard to sleep when our minds are churning, ruminating about what happened or what may, or may not, happen tomorrow.

 

But not knowing does not mean we are helpless or powerless.  Not knowing gives us the chance to free ourselves from what may be unrealistic expectations we make on ourselves or the way we internalize the expectations of others.  

 

To help us put our worries of the unknowns, or the future, aside so we can rest at night, it’s helpful to recite the Shema, a custom that’s been around for thousands of years.  Before going to bed we say “God is One”.  We may feel fractured and unsure, but God is One, unified, and the unifier of what often appears to be a chaotic world within a chaotic universe.  That God is One means there is a wholeness, a peace, that we can fall back into like we do in a trust fall, and we can breathe deeply, knowing at that moment there’s only one truth to hold on to.

 

And we might also think about Aaron’s staff, with the beautiful, delicate white flowers, blooming for eternity, and we might also think about Francis Scott Key, looking out at Ft. McHenry to see a huge symbol of freedom billowing in the morning light.

 

 

 

 

Shabbat Ha'Gadol 2022/5782: Can we ever bridge the rift between generations? Yes we can...

Try to imagine a world in which parents and children are totally in sync, both sides listening and understanding fully the other’s perspectives, no misunderstandings, no false assumptions, no unrealistic expectations of each other.

 

How likely does that sound?

 

Pretty unlikely?  I agree.

 

The new generation tends to challenge the previous one, if for no other reason than to establish itself, to feel independent, and to embrace the art, music, and perspectives of the time.

 

The Haftarah for today, Shabbat Ha’Gadol, the Shabbat before Passover, explains the time when the heart of parents will turn towards children, and vice versa, the hearts of children will be reconciled with parents.

 

But what is the connection here between parent-child reconciliation and the way Elijah will announce at that time the coming of the Messiah?  Wouldn’t we expect a different precursor to world renewal?  Maybe something like, nations lay down all arms, end of prejudice, racism, and oppression?

 

No, the prophet Malachi explains to us the renewal of the world is not something far off in a distant future.  It is right there at the Seder table, on Passover, when the conversation about the Exodus happens between generations.

 

Everything about the Seder is designed by our ancestors to invite us to ask questions, why is it we’re sitting more comfortably tonight than we usually do?  Why are we eating this flat crunchy bread?  And what’s with the bitter stuff we eat?  

 

The Seder’s underlying message is similar to the message of Malachi, if we can stay in dialogue with each other, we get to know each other, and ourselves, much better than otherwise.  If we can share our stories with all our senses involved, then we’ll not only remember the stories better, we’ll also feel like the stories are our own stories and not just the stories of our ancestors.

 

Whether it’s the Exodus story, or our own personal and family stories, we feel connected to others when we share them.  That’s the whole rationale behind the Story Corps project David Isay started at Grand Central in New York back in 2003.  Since then, they’ve amassed the largest amount of recorded human stories of all time.  This whole project came from a time when David was at Thanksgiving with his grandparents, and their siblings,  and he discovered a tape recorder with a microphone and recorded their stories.  He noticed how happy they were to share them.  Unfortunately, he lost that original tape, but still looks for it every time he returns to the old family home.  After Shabbat, go to storycorps.com to listen.

 

This Passover, and beyond, let’s do our best to draw out the stories, and the wisdom, and experiences of others so we can get to know better even the people we’ve known for a long time.  Let’s ask open ended questions and remain curious to discover new perspectives and, hopefully, to build stronger relationships while doing so.

 

In his commentary to Malachi, Avraham ben Hananya explains the turning of generations toward one another really means the whole world will do teshuvah, a turning of reconciliation, forgiveness, empathy, and striving for a faith in God, and in our unity, that transcends the many ways we feel separated and even alienated from one another. 

 

Our tradition teaches that Passover, the original time of national renewal, can be the hoped for day of renewal as well – if we can open up and share our stories, there will be renewal, understanding, empathy, and hope, even if the age old friction between parents and children continues.

On Parshat Vayechi: Beauty and the Beast & Nahum, a person of Gamzu

 The original Disney version of Beauty and the Beast is a wonderful and magical story with a colorful cast of characters and timeless songs.  I found myself though thinking this week about the opening moments of the film, the prologue that sets the stage for the story.

 

The narrator tells of a prince who lived in a beautiful castle in the country.  One stormy and cold night, an old woman comes knocking at the door to ask for food and shelter for the night.  The prince, though he has everything in the world he could need, and plenty to offer, turns her away.  The old woman says do not judge by appearances, but by what is in the heart.  When he turns her away again she transforms into an enchantress who punishes the prince by turning him into the beast.

 

I was thinking about this premise when Joseph and his brothers are speaking after the death of their father Jacob.  As the Book of Genesis draws to a close this week, Joseph’s brothers are concerned he will bear a grudge against them and punish them after their father dies.  

 

Joseph reassures them and says, “Although you intended to do me harm, God intended it for good – so as to bring about the present result, the survival of many people.”

 

Joseph’s evaluation called to mind a Rabbi of the Talmud who’s story could well have been the inspiration for Disney’s version of Beauty and the Beast.

 

Nahum of Gamzu was a person who suffered horrific loss of limbs and function.  Since he was known as a righteous person, his students asked him why such suffering had befallen him.  He explained to them what happened:  He was once traveling the road to his father in law’s house, and he had a load divided onto the backs of 3 donkeys:  one of food, one of drink, and one of other delicacies.  A poor person came along and said to me, “Rabbi, please help me with something to sustain me!”  Rabbi Nahum said, please wait until I unload the donkeys and then I’ll give you something to eat.  However, before he could unload the donkeys the poor man died.

 

He prayed that God would bring him pain to atone for the way he could have helped the poor man more quickly.

 

While Nahum does not turn the poor man away like the prince in the story, both stories suggest to us that when there is a need, we should do what we can with the least amount of delay.

 

But what’s more amazing about Nahum is how he stayed positive, faithful, and hopeful despite what happened to him.  Our Sages looked at his name, especially the name of the town he came from, Gamzu, and explained he is a person who would always say “Gam zu le’tovah”, “This too will be for the good.”  No matter what happens, he believed good would come from it.

 

Joseph makes the same claim to his brothers, and our ancestors over the last many centuries affirm it was God’s plan for Joseph to end up in Egypt and then be able to help the family.

 

As far as we can tell, Joseph never bears a grudge against his brothers, and only tests their character to determine, and perhaps also show, the way they have grown up, for the better.

 

But it is one thing to look back and see what good may have come from something, but the great philosopher John Stuart Mill argued that good may come from evil, but tragically, and just as easily, evil may result from the good.  And it is one thing to look back wistfully from a place of comfort, and another thing altogether to be in the moment, experiencing the suffering first hand.  

When we or someone we care about suffers, we’re inclined to want to fix the problem, but we’re not always able to, nor are the professionals always able to fix what is wrong.  And during these times, the clock ticks on, meaning we have to keep ourselves going at the same time – and we may feel depleted as a result.

 

The awareness we cannot always fix things is an important awareness – and a loving presence is often the best gift we can give, similar to the time Abraham is sitting in pain outside his tent, and the Torah tells us God is there – present but not as a healer or miracle-worker, just present so that Abraham is not alone.

 

Let’s commit this week to being fully and lovingly present for someone in our lives, a family member, a friend, a neighbor.  If we can be present in this way, acknowledging but not trying to fix the other person, then we may be able to give the other person the empowerment to find his or her own way through the healing maze since they will know that someone is there to reassure and offer compassionate voice.

 

And let’s not forget, that in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, it is love that transforms the beast back into a human being, and when we’re suffering we may feel like we are the disease, or the condition that causes the pain, and through loving presence we can help someone realize they are, like the prince, a human being through and through, made in the image of God.

 

 

 

 

Yom Kippur 2021/5782: Transforming anger into blessing

 What is the most popular expression of anger in popular culture?  Some might say the short, red, humanoid anger emotion from Disney’s Inside Out, but I argue it is Dr. Bruce Banner, the Hulk, who has been an iconic character for decades.  The key moment in understanding him, and a key lesson for us at Yom Kippur, and during this season, comes in the Avengers movie, when Dr. Banner arrives in New York, with the alien army already causing chaos, Captain America says to him, “Now might be a really good time for you to get angry.”  And he responds, “That’s my secret Captain, I’m always angry.”

            Of all the emotions we have all felt over the past 18 months, fear, uncertainty, anxiety, and loneliness, to name a few --  anger, at least at first, did not make my list.  But it is there, like a cancer it hides inside us and it is magnified by all the other emotions and stressors we feel.  Even Dr. Banner is able to keep his slow boiling anger under control and unleashes it only when necessary, but we all do not have his level of control.

We are living in times when anger brews in a world turned inside out, and it’s not only related to Covid19, but , among other things, to the steadily increasing polarization of our society, the demonization that’s followed in its wake, the expanding scope of environmental disasters we’ve witnessed – fire and water, and the impact of all these stressors taken together.  And in Israel last spring we witnessed the greatest peacetime loss of life in Israel at Meron on Lag B’Omer, a day of bright light turned into darkness, over the summer a new round of rockets attacks on Israeli cities, 13 American soldiers and Afghan allies murdered in Kabul, and so much more.

            Anger is with us.  We may not be feeling it right now, but it’s there, and the healthiest way we are going to make it through this New Year together is to be honest and open about it, and, to decide how we can turn this emotion into an ally rather than a divisive and toxic enemy.

            The Rabbis teach us as human beings we are known by three qualities that define us.  We are known b’kaso, be’kiso, be’koso, by our anger, by how we use our financial resources, and, finally, by our cup – our ability to control our impulses, meaning our temperance .  How does our anger define us?  We may get angry about things that on the surface are passing annoyances, stubbing a toe, someone cuts us off on the road.    And we may get angry about real issues of depth and complexity in connection with our values and desires to improve this world.  Anger is an emotion that shows we care about something that happened or is happening.  We do not get angry about things to which we are in all other ways indifferent.  The Rabbis are teaching us heaven judges us by whether our anger is mainly about minor and inconsequential things or, about the more significant and lasting issues of our lives, our communities, and beyond.  

Anger, like power, need not be a negative force all the time.  If we are angry about things that matter, about the fact that our world does not yet reflect God’s fullest vision of what a holy, just world can be, a world overflowing with blessing and the radiance of God’s Presence – that’s a good anger.  That is anger free from demonization, free from hatred for ourselves or others.  

            In this spirit, allow me to share the story of how two people helped a third overcome his unbridled anger and hate to open the gates of healing and blessing where we could not have imagined before.  You may have already read it in Chicken Soup for the Jewish Soul, about a Cantor, his brave wife, and a Klansman whose lives came together in Nebraska.

            Cantor Michael Weisser and his wife Julie moved to Lincoln, Nebraska thirty years ago.  While unpacking, their phone rang, and the voice said, “You will be sorry you ever moved in to that house, Jew boy!” Then the line went dead.

            Two days later they received a thick brown mailing with a card that read, “The KKK is watching you, Scum.”  The mailing included anti-Semitic caricatures of Jews, blacks, and other race traitors and threatening messages, including, “Your time is up!” and “The Holohoax was nothing compared to what’s going to happen to you.”

            The police identified the source of the mailing as Larry Trapp, an avowed Nazi and the state’s grand dragon of the Ku Klux Klan.  Trapp, 44 years old, was diabetic and in a wheelchair, but still he was thought to be responsible for fire-bombings of several African American’s homes around Lincoln and the burning of an Asian refugee assistance center.  Authorities had become aware he was discussing plans to bomb Cantor Weisser’s synagogue.

            After the hate mail, and new local calls to recruit for the Klan,  Julie Weisser began to wonder about how lonely this man must be, how isolated in all his [anger driven] hatred.  She would sometimes drive past his apartment complex, and while infuriated and revolted by him, she was intrigued how he could become so evil.

            She told Michael of an idea she had:  She was going to send Trapp a letter every day, along with a Bible passage from the Book of Proverbs, a book that teaches lessons on how to treat our fellow human beings.

            Michael liked the idea but didn’t want Julie to identify herself in the letters for fear of reprisal.  So she held off on her plan, and then Trapp launched a white supremacist series on a local TV channel with a call-in hotline.  Michael would call the KKK hotline and say things like, “Larry, do you know the first laws Hitler’s Nazis passed were against people like yourself with physical deformities, physical handicaps?”

            Michael asked Julie, if he ever picks up the phone, what should I say?

            Julie answered, “Tell him you want to do something nice for him.  Tell him you’ll take him to the grocery store or something.  Anything to help him.  It will catch him totally off guard.”

            Trapp, feeling increasingly annoyed by Michael’s calls, one day picked up the phone and shouted, “What do you want?  Why are you harassing me?”

            “I don’t want to harass you Larry, I just want to talk to you.

            “What do you want, make it quick.”

            “Well, I was thinking you might need a hand with something, and I wondered if I could help.  I know you’re in a wheelchair and I thought maybe I could take you to the grocery store or something.”

            There was silence.  “That’s ok.  That’s nice of you, but I’ve got that covered.  Thanks anyway, but don’t call this number anymore.”

            Before Trapp could hang up, Michael replied, “I’ll be in touch.”

            Trapp was feeling confused.  A young person helped him get his wheel chair onto an elevator at the eye doctor.  When he asked where she was from, the voice said, “From Vietnam.”

            That night, he found himself crying, thinking of his assaults on the Asian community.

            Although he had spoken to Michael and told him he was rethinking things, a few days later he was on TV again shrieking about kikes, half-breeds, and the Jewish media.

            Michael was furious, and in a follow-up call, Trapp said, “I’m sorry I did that…I’ve been talking that way all my life….I can’t help it…I’ll apologize…”

            The next day, the Weisser’s phone rang, Trapp said, “I want to get out, but I don’t know how.”

            They asked to come over to break bread together, he hesitated, then finally agreed.  While preparing to leave, Julie looked for a gift to give, and decided on a silver friendship ring of intertwined strands, something Michael never wore.  He said, “I’ve always thought those strands could represent all different kinds of people on earth.”

            At the visit, he yanked off his two swastika rings.  These rings had defined his hate as symbols he wore for so long, rings that as his diabetes advanced caused him physical pain as his hands swelled.  Julie gave him the ring they brought.  They all broke down crying.  In November of 1991, he resigned from the Klan, and wrote apologies to the many people he had threatened or abused.  Julie cared for him through his last year of life.  In June of 1992, he converted to Judaism with a ceremony at the very synagogue he had once planned to blow up.  

            At his funeral, Michael Weisser said, “Those of us who remain behind ask the question, ‘O Lord what are human beings…We are like a breath, like a shadow that flies away…And yet somehow, we know there is more to our lives than what first meets the eye.”

            Larry Trapp had been full of anger his whole life that fueled his hate and led to pain and suffering of others and warped his soul.  Michael and Jullie Weisser could have dismissed him, or cut off his ways of communicating his rage against others, but they responded with compassion.  Clearly we all need to be safe in our compassionate efforts, and in this case they were careful, and through their intervention they turned anger into an open heart, and enabled a human being to do teshuvah, repentance, for the pain he caused to others.  Trapp had been a hateful white supremacist, that’s what he cared about, and that appeared to be all he cared about.  The Weissers imagined there could be more, another side to him, a second soul hiding behind the thick layer of rage.  His apartment, full of Nazi and hate paraphernalia was a shrine to his hate.  Our ancestors were aware of the potential destructive depth of this type of rage.  They teach us in the Talmud that becoming full of anger is equivalent to idol worship.  What idol does anger cause us to worship?  It causes us to worship ourselves.  In other words, only what we are incensed at matters.   

            Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel reminds us even God has anger.  We see it expressed on several occasions in the Bible.  In an effort to explain God’s anger in the Torah, Heschel teaches us God’s anger is ‘not an irrational, sudden and instinctive excitement, but a free and deliberate reaction of God’s justice to what is wrong and evil…Its meaning is instrumental:  to bring about repentance, its purpose…is its own disappearance.  

            This afternoon, we’ll read about how Jonah gets angry with people and with God.  When the residents of Nineveh repent immediately on hearing Jonah’s announcement that they have to repent and change their ways.  Instead of considering himself the most successful prophet ever, he gets angry with God who sees the people change their ways and has a change of heart.  He felt he couldn’t rely on God’s word anymore – God’s message was ‘In 40 days Nineveh will be destroyed’, and now the people of the city have changed.  God’s answer to Jonah in the end is compassion overcomes anger, but Heschel teaches us, beyond justice and anger lies the mystery of compassion.  

            And that is a mystery for us that is worth everything to us in the New Year.  Compassion is the reason we are here.  It is on every page of the machzor.  Some may write this off as naivete or weakness, but as we can see God’s compassion follows serious and soul-searching trials.  It is the more difficult path, but it is the more lasting path, the path of blessing.

            How can we follow God’s example and use our anger for the good?

If we’re going to get angry about something, make it about something significant, something holy.

            Yom Kippur is a day to remind ourselves what we should be angry about.  

            Our righteous anger is a precious resource.  While we feel it, we need to direct it in ways that are relevant and meaningful to us otherwise we risk it burning out when spread too thin.  We will not all agree on our goals, and as a result we may find that our own righteous anger comes against another’s, even right here within our own community.  The lesson of Yom Kippur is we can still be part of the same community, if we can really listen to each other, and open our hearts

             

            For those of us who are fasting, it is important to be aware of our mood and behavior today.  Without the usual nourishment our senses are heightened and we may feel a little less patient and thoughtful. A recent term for feeling this way is ‘hangry’, anger caused by hunger.  A congregant of mine once explained how he grew up going to a synagogue on a city street, and often, when they opened the windows to cool off the sanctuary on a hot Yom Kippur day, the smell from the pizza parlor across the street would waft through…goodness…what meditation and self-control they must have had there to get through that day.  If we can be aware of our responses today, and slow down our reactions with some deep breathing, we may be able to pinpoint the little things that trigger us so we can then focus on getting angry about the big things. 

            Uncertain times, loneliness, fear, the force of bad habits and the difficulty of breaking them, all can cause us to rage, to strike out at the seeming disorder.  That was the story of Larry Trapp, and like his name, he was trapped in this cycle of anger and hate.  Today, Yom Kippur, is a day we expose our own fears, angers, uncertainties, and pain, like an open live wire threatening shocks to anyone who gets too close when our armor is stripped away.  This place, and this time, are safe havens for us to think, to feel, to breathe, to decide what is worth getting angry and doing something about, and to decide what is unworthy of draining our hearts and souls of their precious energy.  

            Our ancestors teach us we are judged by God on 3 things, b’kaso, b’kiso, be’koso, and the first one b’kaso, is, what is the nature of our anger?  

            What will we choose to be angry about this year?  How will we use this precious resource in a way that motivates us to act on what we care deeply about in a way that ends by dousing our righteous rage with the cooling water of compassion.   

            Today is a day for us to begin to decide.

 

Tzom Kal, wishing an easy & meaningful fast to all those who are fasting, and may we be written and sealed in the Book of Life.

2nd day Rosh Hashanah 2021/5782: Masorti & Supporting the diversity of Judaism in Israel

So much is the same about Judaism and Jewish identity as its observed in Israel.  For example,  they celebrate 2 days of Rosh Hashanah like we do in the Diaspora.  But beyond that, the structures of Jewish religious life in Israel are in many ways so different than here.  This is one of the reasons the reasons we’ve launched a partnership between Shaare Shalom and The New Kehilah of Ramat Aviv, the Conservative synagogue in Tel Aviv, so that in this new year we can get to know each other, spiritually, socially, and then we will be able to advocate for our brothers and sisters in Israel and they us, benefit from their wisdom and experience, and develop a closer relationship between our two worlds.

 

In order to explain more, I would like to take you on a journey.  

When I was studying in Israel for a year during rabbinical school fifteen years ago I interviewed for the student Rabbi position at a lovely congregation in Loudoun County, Virginia.  At the time, I had a vague idea of where Loudoun County was, somewhere, as my father explained it, in the neighborhood of Dulles Airport.  We chatted on a Skype connection from our apartment in Jerusalem at a time when Zoom only meant to ‘go really fast’.

 

During that year in Jerusalem, Rachel and I joined a synagogue called Kehilat Mayanot, a Masorti congregation, Israel’s branch of Conservative, egalitarian Judaism.  

 

It was so different from what I knew growing up.  Mayanot did not have its own building.  At the time, they held services in a classroom in a school building in the Baka neighborhood of the new city, a 15-minute walk from our apartment. Members of the synagogue rotated hosting the oneg after Saturday services.  The dress was very casual, and one Saturday morning someone’s dog wandered into and out of the room where we were praying.  During the Dvar Torah, members of the synagogue would interrupt the speaker and ask questions.  Children sat under the table during the Torah reading eating Bamba snacks.  The overall feel may have been casual, but we were in the company of high-level professionals, and professors both of Judaic studies and other subjects as well who all were motivated to teach, give divrey Torah, and to lead soulful and energetic services.

 

During our time there, the Ramat Rachel neighborhood was well under construction and growing, a former Kibbutz property turned into many new apartment buildings to the east of the Old City, and just north of where Mayanot gathered.

 

A parcel of that land was zoned for a synagogue, and Mayanot submitted a bid to build its building on that property.  Most of the Mayanot members lived in or near that neighborhood.  The bid looked to be successful, until it wasn’t. 

 

A group, supported by one of the religious political parties, having discovered that a Masorti community wanted to build there, submitted a competing bid and eventually the municipality chose their bid over Mayanot.  The party who’s bid was accepted was not local and did not even have an established congregation in the area.  

 

This was a difficult moment, because I love Israel – a place of wonderful relationships we made with Mayanot members and faculty at Machon Schecter with whom we still keep in touch after all these years, but I struggle with the way its citizens who are Jewish, but not Orthodox, are treated.  

 

The government pays the salaries of Orthodox rabbis, and so the members of their congregations do not need to pay dues.  Masorti communities not only need to pay dues, but face discrimination on establishing places to pray.  If a Masorti rabbi  was found to have officiated a wedding, they could be jailed.  For years, even our way of praying has not been included.  And as you may know, it is forbidden to pray in a mixed group at the main plaza of the Western Wall.  

 

And then, just this past month, after Orthodox Jews interrupted and interfered with Masorti Jews praying in the current egalitarian area at the Western Wall, Eliezer Melamed, a leading Orthodox Rabbi, chief Rabbi of Shomron and head of its yeshiva, wrote a piece in a religious news publication that echoed like the voice of the angel telling Abraham to stay his hand and not go through with sacrificing his son.

He said, quote, “it is correct to set aside the ‘Ezrat Yisrael’ area for them to hold their prayer services in a respectable manner,” Rabbi Melamed wrote.

“If more people come to pray adhering to their rules, the area allotted to them in the Ezrat Yisrael space should be increased as needed.”

[Orthodox and charedi people] should be happy that more of their Jewish brothers and sisters are connecting to the site of the Temple, and more of them want to pray to their Father in Heaven.”

 

[And if] They need a Torah scroll [the Western Wall's rabbi] should take care of it."

(https://www.israelnationalnews.com/News/News.aspx/310396)

 

On this second day of Rosh Hashanah, with the Binding of Isaac as the central story that anchors the day, while it may seem the Conservative and Reform movements are, in a way, bound on the altar there is change occurring at the highest levels.

 

Heads of the Masorti/Conservative movement sent a high-level delegation to meet with leaders of the current government, and Nachman Shai, the minister for Diaspora affairs, recently wrote that the government of Israel, in setting the relationship with Jews in the diaspora, quote, “is slowly but surely taking responsibility…we realize we have disappointed you and are doing teshuvah, repentance, with a sincere desire to make things right in the future.”  Shai explains the government is committed to bringing back the Kotel compromise, that is, formalizing an egalitarian prayer section at the Western Wall.  He wants us to know that they believe in us, and are ready for our critique and  ideas, and most of all to be our partners.   

 

If I could speak directly to Mr. Shai, I would say, here at Shaare Shalom, we are already your partners!  Our partnership with The New Kehilah of Ramat Aviv launched with a series of joint online classes to help us prepare for the high holidays, and that was just the beginning.  Together we will be able to accomplish things we could not do alone. 

 

It’s so important for us to connect with Israelis, both us grown-ups and our kids.  This fall the students of both communities will be learning together in a joint religious school program.  They will literally put faces and names to people who live there, and so, when our kids go to college, they will not only know about Israel in theory, they will have relationships and a holy connection. 

 

Jeff Cymet, the Rabbi of the New Kehilah, is American born and raised, and is one of the leaders of the Masorti movement.  He is an amazing teacher, and spokesperson for the movement, and we’re blessed that he and his community are 100% in favor of this partnership that will strengthen both our communities.  Among the many projects Jeff has worked on, he is one of the visionary founders of a school in Tel Aviv for students from Charedi orthodox, Masorti, and secular backgrounds.  I feel sure he will be able to help us begin to resolve disunity amongst the Jewish people here in North America.  We have a lot to learn from each other, not only in information but also in inspiration.

 

The Masorti movement benefits from dynamic leaders like Rabbi Jeff as it’s grown now into a phenomenon that the Israeli public is increasingly recognizing as a meaningful way of connecting Jewishly, with 80 communities, and reaching thousands of youth and adults each year, a program for enabling Bnai Mitzvah students with disabilities to celebrate their simchas,  a school training Rabbis and educators in Jerusalem, a youth movement, and Tali, a like-minded school movement, the Masorti movement is growing.

 

Masorti offers many Israelis a way of reconnecting to Judaism as a religious and spiritual path.  A May 2016 study showed 1/3 of Israeli Jews identified with Reform and Conservative Judaism.

 

Our partnership and wish for Israel to be more supportive of Masorti and Reform Judaism is not an indictment of Israel as a nation.  Israel’s existence, and persistence, as a democratic state in the middle east is a miracle, a miracle of courage, endurance, and an indefatigable vision of hope, strength, and belief in the power of an evolving homeland in which calls of the muezzin mix with the sound of church bells and the buzz of Jews praying and learning, where scientific and technological discovery proceed at a rapid pace, and where our ancient dream of building a homeland continues to evolve into a light unto the nations.  

 

This project of ours is a way of helping Israel, and us, grow and evolve even further.  It’s a learning curve whose only goal is increasing blessing, and as our tradition says, ma’alin ba’kodesh, rising up in holiness.

 

In the same way, at the end of the Akedah, we read Abraham returns to his servants, but the Torah does not mention Isaac returning.  Our ancestors believe Isaac is going off to school, to the primeval yeshivah of Shem and Ever, where he will himself grow from this experience into a more mature adult.  

 

That’s our hope too, that the miracle of modern Israel continue to be an ongoing story in which the State celebrates and supports all forms of Judaism practiced within its borders.  Diaspora Minister Nachman Shai and his government are eager to do so, and what a blessing that will be. 

 

Just as all of us, here, in Israel, and all over the world say Ado-nai Echad, God is one, we pray for unity and strength here, and with our brothers and sisters in Tel Aviv, with whom, God willing, in another year or so, we will be able to meet in person as we go together on a mission to visit Israel and literally join hands in prayer and thanksgiving for the blessings that flow from Israel to us, and from us back to them in return.  

 

Please join us as we continue to create and grow this partnership with Israel! 

 

Shana Tovah.