Parashat Beshalach: Exodus 13:17 - 17:16, Shabbat Shira
This Shabbat we celebrate the long-awaited deliverance of the Israelites from Egyptian slavery, calling it a Sabbath of Song to echo the Mi Chamocha our ancestors chanted on the far shores of the Red Sea. We sing their song each time we pray but on this Shabbat the words take on special resonance as we imagine the joy beyond joy felt by those redeemed by God through miracles and wonders.
The miracles we experience today - especially the redemptions - usually fall far short of a sea split in two. In my class last week we studied together some prayer-poems of redemptive hopes and experiences more in keeping with our modern experience. In honor of Shabbat Shira (in Hebrew, shira means poem as well as song), I share three of those poems with all of you. Enjoy!
Share Them
If we have learned one thing from our past
it is that to live through dramatic events is not enough;
one has to share them, share them,
and transform them
into acts of conscience. (Elie Wiesel)
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. (Wendell Berry)
Three Regions
There are three regions in each of our souls,
There is Egypt, there is the Desert, and there is the Promised Land.
Many of us have glimpsed our Egypt,
Or perhaps some are still there,
Wearing the chains,
Bearing the burdens of fear, insecurity,
Doubt, and weakness,
Mustering the strength to clamber up -
Still few of us have glimpsed our Promised Land,
Our destiny,
Fulfillment of dreams,
Our fruitfulness, our blossoming,
Our purpose
We talk of Egypt often…
Every holiday, every prayer service,
Mention we once were slaves,
Recall our hardships under Pharaoh.
We talk of the Promised Land often,
Every holiday, every prayer service,
Long for Israel
For the Voice to come forth from Zion,
We turn to the east,
Reminisce Jerusalem.
But rarely do we talk of, or pray about, the Desert…
Yet that is the region in which most of us are,
Pushing forward in the wilderness,
Dragging our footsteps across that forty-year stretch
of pristine, barren, moonscape.
It is there we encounter truth
It is there we encounter miracle.
We are nomads still,
At the shore of some sparkling oasis,
And we sing our nomad song… (Rabbi Zoe Klein)
Parashat Bo: Exodus 10:1 - 13:16
Posted January 27 2012 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
This Shabbat we read from the Torah portion called Bo. It begins with the recitation of the last series of plagues that fell on the Egyptians and then proceeds to spell the details of the first Passover celebration -before the Exodus ever took place, and laws regarding how Passover would be celebrated into the future.
“This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months; it shall be the first of the months of the year for you…” (Exodus 12:2) It seems that in order for us to be free we had to separate ourselves from the calendar others observed. As slaves we were subservient to the order of the days in the Egyptian calendar. One of the markers of our soon to be celebrated freedom would be keeping time our own way. And once we were able to do this, mark every celebration with a purpose. Passover will become one of the central holidays -not to celebrate it in some way would be a sign of separation, of severing the ties to one’s people. The celebration was of a God who -in the biblical and rabbinic imagination - acted in history, one who redeems the oppressed and therefore gives hope to those who suffer. The S’fat Emet tells us that our moon based calendar furthers this notion: the waxing and waning of the moon come to symbolize the fortunes of the Jewish people throughout history. Just as the moon goes through cycles so do the fortunes of our people, ever to be renewed.
The “God-Who-Acts in History” comes to be replaced by an ever increasing understanding of human responsibility to be partners with God in the making of history. It is us who are called to be God’s agents in bringing redemption: to feed the poor, to free the prisoners, to liberate the enslaved, to unshackle ourselves from whatever becomes our “Egypt.” It is no longer acceptable to sit back, pray, and await God’s intervention. Our sitting back and praying can only serve the purpose of helping us to discern what it is God wants us to do at any particular moment, how are we to act to best play out our role as divine agents.
It is a nice coincidence that during this Shabbat Bo Rabbi Forrest and I will be in Washington, DC, with the members of our Confirmation Class to participate in the L’Taken Social Action Seminar of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism. For the past 50 years the R.A.C. has been the Jewish voice for social justice in Washington DC. Through its seminars for teenagers and adults it trains us to be better advocates, it helps us sort out values and their sources in our tradition that can inform how we participate in contemporary political debates. Through its representatives it brings the voice of a powerful Reform Jewish Community in the United States to the corridors of power. Our teens will learn how the political process works, will steep themselves in Jewish language regarding contemporary problems like bullying, international human rights, treatment of immigrants, poverty, hunger, U.S.A./Israel relations, and many more. Hopefully they will return empowered to become activists and advocates who understand why, whenever we lift the kidush cup on Friday night we do so “zecher litziat Mitzrayim, to remember our exodus from Egypt.”
Samson Raphael Hirsch, one of the founders of modern Orthodoxy in XIX Century Germany, said “the Jewish calendar is the Jewish catechism,” a symbol of what is worth remembering and what is worth fighting for. It all begins with this Shabbat’s Torah portion.
Parashat Vaera: Exodus 6:2 - 9:35
Posted January 20 2012 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
Wine is a part of many Jewish rituals and celebrations. The Mishna teaches, “In every generation a person is obligated to see her/himself as if s/he actually came out of Egypt.” The Passover Haggadah employs many rituals to bring the story of the Exodus to life. One of them is the cups of wine. As the they are filled and drunk throughout the Seder, the stages of redemption are both told and celebrated. These stages are expressed in this week’s Torah portion:
“Say to the Children of Israel: I am Adonai; I will bring you out from beneath the burdens of Egypt, I will rescue you from servitude to them, I will redeem you with an outstreached arm, with great (acts of) judgment; I will take you for me as a people and I will be for you as a God; And you shall know that I am Adonai your God, who brings you out from beneath the burdens of Egypt. I will bring you into the land (over) which I lifted my hand (in an oath) to give to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob. I will give it to you as a possession.” (Exodus 6:6-8)
The action words-bring, rescue, redeem, take and bring/give-signify the various promises that God makes to the Israelites before the Exodus and are represented through the cups of wine. Each promise is another step towards redemption:
1st Cup - I will bring you out…
2nd Cup - I will rescue you…
3rd Cup - I will redeem you ...
4th Cup - I will take you…
Elijah’s Cup - I will bring you into the land ...
“In every generation a person is obligated to see her/himself as if s/he actually came out of Egypt.” The cups of wine narrate the stages of redemption for the Israelites from Egypt to the Promised Land, but they can also represent our own path towards freedom. The word for Egypt in Hebrew is Mitzrayim, which can be translated as “narrow places. ” Each of us has our own mitzrayim; our personal narrow places. Rabbi Lori Forman in Sacred Intentions explains:
“As individuals, we need continually to reflect on the ways we get stuck-in other words, how we live imprisoned lives through which we are diminished. How can we free ourselves from the inner demons, fears, and limitation which constrict our spirits? How can we help others tear down barriers which limit their freedom? Though we have never experienced slavery firsthand, it is such a pivotal event in our history as a people that it is never far from the surface.”
At first the Israelites could not hear the promises that God was making to them. The Torah explains that “when Moses told this to the Israelites, they would not listen to Moses, their spirits crushed by cruel bondage” (Exodus 6:9). The Hebrew for “spirits crushed” is kotzer ruach, which Robert Alter translates as “shortness of breath.” The Israelites were exhausted and at first could not imagine freedom. Freeing ourselves from our personal mitzrayim cannot happen over night. Like we will see in the coming weeks going from slavery to freedom, from despair to hope, is a process. Step by step we make our way to the Promised Land. The Etz Hayim Torah Commentary gives additional interpretation of this narrative of redemption:
“I will free you from physical enslavement; I will deliver you from the psychological mind-set of being a slave, which might persist even after you have been physically liberated; I will redeem you so that you will think of yourselves as a free people; and I will take you into a special relationship with Me, for that is the ultimate goal of your liberation. Finally, I will bring you into the land which I swore to give Abraham.”
As we travel with the Israelites out of Mitzrayim, let each of us begin our own journeys. We will see that it won’t always be easy, but the end can be full of awe.
Parashat Sh’mot: Exodus 1:1 - 6:1
Posted January 13 2012 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
Returning from my sabbatical leave I am called upon to teach from this Shabbat’s Torah portion, Sh’mot. It is the beginning of a new book, the second in the cycle of the Five Books of Moses. I turn to its opening lines “And these are the names of the children of Israel who came into Egypt…. “(verse 1) to “...Now there arose a new king over Egypt who knew not Joseph…” (verse 8) and discover in the text what happens in real life. The little word “And” at the beginning speaks of continuity. Having been away for three months I am grateful for the added effort each of my colleagues made to cover for me in my absence. As in the text, it seems seamless. A new book (or chapter) begins but it is intimately connected to everything that happened before. Yet at the same time verse 8 speaks of discontinuity. Things are never the same as they were. While I was on leave beloved members of our community passed away, babies were born, Bar and Bath Mitzvah ceremonies took place. There was joy and sadness I did not get to share with you, my congregants of many years. There is a gap.
A month of my sabbatical leave was spent teaching around various cities in Brazil. I taught Jews who live fairly isolated from larger Jewish centers of study who crave for teachers, connections and a sense of belonging to something greater than their tiny, often struggling communities. I also spent a lot of time with Jews who confront all the problems we encounter and wanted to learn from our experiences: how to counteract what seems to be a growing anti-Semitism hiding behind anti-Israel and anti-Zionist postures; how to respond to a growing fundamentalism around them, within and outside the Jewish community.
In a way, the more isolated Jewish centers feel deeply their roots to a people and their need to connect to our ancestral land. They get the transition that takes place in our Torah portion: This is no longer a familial story -of patriarchs and matriarchs and their immediate descendants. It is a larger story of a people on its way to embrace a faith, or a faith that is about to be embraced by a people. Yes, there is continuity in that without Genesis there is no Exodus, but without Jews becoming a people there was no way to sustain the earlier ancestral faith.
As I return to Isaiah, renewed and refreshed, I hope to navigate with you these issues of continuity and discontinuity; of what we need to retain as individuals and communities as we transition through life’s stages and what we need to shake off so that we may not be found on the road with too much excess baggage.
From slavery to freedom, from freedom to commitment, from commitment to building a different kind of life: These are just some of the central themes of the new book we now begin to read
Parashat Vayechi: Genesis 47:28 - 50:26
Posted January 06 2012 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
One of the most rewarding parts of being a rabbi is studying with people who have decided to convert to Judaism. Adults (and some teens) choose Judaism for many different reasons. Some tell me they have “felt” Jewish their whole lives, have read and studied about Judaism, and want to make their commitment a formal, lasting and meaningful one. Some marry into Jewish families, live a Jewish life, and decide, too, to join our people. Some find life’s meaning in the mitzvot, some in Torah study, some in communal worship, some in the rhythms and lessons of the Jewish calendar and life cycle.
This week I spoke to someone who told me he was pulled to Judaism and the Jewish people because, as he said, “you do not give in to despair.” Despite all the times we were driven from our homes, persecuted for our faith and customs, murdered and discriminated against in countless locales, “you did not give in, you did not turn away, you did not despair, you always had hope and faith.”
It is good to be reminded of how proud we can be of our ancestors, and how resilient we ourselves need to be in the face of the many challenges of the contemporary world. Anti-Semitism still exists overtly and covertly, our people is a small one, and each of us is, indeed, responsible for sustaining our people into the next generation.
In this week’s Torah portion, we witness a remarkable example of someone who could be expected to give in to despair, but turns, instead, to hope and faith, and thereby bequeaths our heritage to his children. Jacob lies ill in Egypt; he knows he is dying and calls all his children to gather for his blessings. Jacob is in exile from his homeland of Israel. He is surrounded by children who have disappointed him by their actions. He has suffered mightily from mistakes he made in his youth and as a father. Yet, in the midst of his last travail, he calls out: “I hope for your deliverance, God!” (Gen. 49:18)
Jacob teaches us that hope is the antidote to despair. In a midrash to this passage, Rabbi Isaac (Beresheet Rabbah) points out: “Everything is bound up with hoping. Suffering is bound up with hoping, our ancestors give us hope, and our desire for the world to come is hope. Hope brings grace, and even forgiveness comes through hope.”
We Jews have been accused of specializing in guilt. I believe we specialize in hope. In the darkest times and in our most exuberant, we hope for more, for better, for a time when all is hope and despair no longer has meaning. In that spirit, on behalf of the congregation, a big thank you to all the hundreds of volunteers and TI staff members who brought hope and light to our guests for Winter Nights. And a huge communal and heart-felt thank you to our leadership for Winter Nights: Jonathan Klein & Rebecca Callahan Klein and Jeff & Tina Goodfriend (and all the Klein and Goodfriend children!). May we continue our good efforts of social justice and tikkun olam throughout 2012 and beyond.
May each of us learn to bring hope and strength to every situation, that our children and grandchildren may inherit Judaism in all its complexity, all its joy and all its vitality.
Parashat Vayigash: Genesis 44:18 - 47:27
Posted December 30 2011 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
There is a Chassidic story that tells of two people coming to a crossroad. One chooses an uneven road, and the other a straight even road. The first encountered many obstacles but at last reached the city. The other had a much smoother journey at first, but near the end of the journey found the path blocked and had to return.
Over the last few weeks we have read the journey of Joseph. When Jacob sends Joseph to see his brothers in Shechem, he has no idea of the path Joseph would travel before they would see each other again. Receiving the multi-colored jacket from his father begins a complex journey for Joseph. His jealous brothers throw him into a pit and then sell him to a caravan of Ishmaelites going to Egypt. He quickly goes from being a slave to being the manager of Potiphar’s house; yet is soon thrown into prison when Potiphar’s wife tries to seduce him. His abilities to interpret dreams then take him out of jail and finally land him a position of leadership. After many a journey Joseph and his family are reunited in this week’s Torah portion. Looking back on all that transpired along the way, Joseph says to his brothers, “God sent me ahead of you to assure your survival in the land, to keep you alive for a great deliverance.” (Genesis 45:7) He is now able to understand the point of his journey and the challenges he faced.
When we set out on a new path-whether it’s a new career, a move to a new city, a change to our lifestyle or the beginning of a new year-we do not know how life’s journey will turn out. The Chassidic tale and Joseph’s adventures teach us that bumps in the road can lead to desired destinations. We might not understand them or appreciate them at the time, and even long for a smoother ride, but these challenges help us develop character and possibly help us find strength, power and the capacity to fulfill our dreams.
As we say the blessings of Havdalah at the end of this Shabbat, we will end one year and transition into the next. As we begin our journeys into the year 2012 I offer you this blessing by Naomi Levy:
May all the gifts hidden inside you find their
way into the world,
May all the kindness of your thoughts be
expressed in your deeds.
May all your learning lead to wisdom,
May all your efforts lead to success,
May all the love in your heart be returned to you,
May God bless your body with health and your
soul with joy,
May God watch over you night and day
and protect you from harm,
May all your prayers be answered.
Amen.
Parashat Miketz: Genesis 41:1 - 44:17
Posted December 23 2011 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
Fourth Night of Hanukkah
“It is all one dream,” Joseph says to Pharaoh, interpreting the ruler’s two separate visions of fat and lean cows, ripe and withered corn stalks. The dreams represent Egypt’s cyclical future of fortune and loss. The land will experience seven bountiful years followed by seven devastating years. If Pharaoh is smart - smart enough to take Joseph out of prison and put him in charge - the country will survive and thrive by storing the surplus in the good years to tide over the people during the years of famine.
And so it was. Pharaoh’s dreams play out exactly as Joseph predicts, with the result that Egypt becomes the breadbasket for the region. Joseph rises to second-in-command and finds himself in position to decide the fate of the very brothers who sold him into slavery. Some of the most emotionally powerful texts in the Torah appear in this portion as we imagine what Joseph feels as he hides behind his Egyptian façade facing those brothers.
But because it is Hanukkah I want to leave the brothers and turn back to the cyclical dreams, the theme of light followed by darkness and the hope for light once again. We know Hanukkah falls during the dark time of the year; we light candles in that darkness, bringing warmth, light and hope into our homes and synagogues. Many of us know the apocryphal story of the miraculous oil that shone for eight days instead of one, a rabbinic tale emphasizing God’s power to bring miracles, greater miracles, even, than a military victory by the Maccabees.
Less well known by far is this Talmudic story (BT Avodah Zarah 8a). See if you think it could be one of the bases of our Hanukkah observance:
Our rabbis taught: when the first man (Adam) saw the daylight hours were becoming shorter and shorter, he said, “Woe is me! Perhaps because I have sinned, the world is becoming dark around me and is returning to chaos (tohu va-vohu). This is the death sentence declared upon me by Heaven!” He sat for eight days in fasting and prayer. After the winter solstice when he saw the days becoming longer and longer, he said, “This is simply the way of the world!” He went and made an eight-day festival . . . He established them for the sake of Heaven and they established them for idolatry. (BT Avodah Zarah 8a)
With Adam we imagine a first experience of winter - cold, short days and longer, colder nights. It would be bleak, fearsome, depressing. Adam first took the blame for this dramatic change on himself, fasting and praying for eight days for the return of the light and the warmth. When the cycle naturally reversed itself after the solstice, insight dawned on humanity: God created the world to move through cycles of light and dark, seasons and bounty and seasons of want. In gratitude to God, Adam declared a winter festival to praise the Creator. While “they,” (the Roman idolaters of the story) established a week-long pagan festival called Saturnalia during the solstice period.
The rabbis of the Talmud clearly have an agenda, whether they tell a story of oil or a story of the first winter. They want us to have faith. Faith that though life is full of ups and downs (and, sometimes, downs and more downs), we are not alone in the darkness, we are not vulnerable in the cold. We have prayer, community, celebration and a reliable order to the times and seasons to help us through the dark times. We can and should live in partnership with each other and with the Holy One. We can have faith that light will, one day, conquer darkness. May it be so.
Hanukkah Samayach! May light fill our homes and our souls with peace.
Parashat Vayeshev: Genesis 37:1 - 40:23
Posted December 16 2011 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
In case you didn’t know, before going to rabbinical school I worked full-time at Temple Isaiah in the Education and Youth Department (1999-2001). As I was getting ready to leave for Israel, for my first year of rabbinical school, one of the LAFTY-ites gave me a going away gift. He gave me the book: The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook. The book explains how to survive different scenarios that could happen while traveling. For example: How to find your way without a compass, how to jump from a moving train, how to control a runaway camel, how to foil a UFO abduction.
This book seemed very practical for someone who was about to travel half way across the world. You never know, in Israel I might need to know how to control a runaway camel. But these were not the situations I would need to think about as I began my rabbinical studies. We as a Jewish community have our own Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook, one that describes how we have survived different scenarios that have threatened Jewish continuity. This Jewish Survival Handbook is not one that can be found at Barnes and Noble, it is a “handbook” made up of history, traditions, laws, liturgy and literature. We as a people have been faced with the concern of survival throughout our history and through this “handbook” we have passed on our wisdom from one generation to the next.
This Tuesday night we begin the holiday of Chanukah. As we prepare for our celebrations, we do not need to look much further in our Survival Handbook than the Chanukah tale of the Maccabean Revolt to see one of our greatest successes. It is through the story of the Maccabees that we see the dilemma between separatism and accommodation, a dilemma that arises generation after generation. Both in the time of the Maccabees and today, we have needed to ask ourselves, “At what point do we as a Jewish community separate ourselves from the secular community through our customs and practices and when is it okay for us to reform our practices in order to adapt to the customs of the larger community?”
In the second century BCE, the time of the Maccabees, the Jewish laws created a wall between Jews and non-Jews. The Jews appointed their own high priests who ruled over the Temple and Judea, allowing for the strict observance of Koshrut, Shabbat, and marriage laws. But as the Greeks came into power the rule of the Temple and hence the rule of Judea was appointed by the king. Now at the time, there were some Jews for who it made sense to drop the laws and adapt to Hellenistic culture, many others who only wanted to preserve characteristics of the Jewish religion that corresponded to Greek taste, and others who remained separate. King Antiochus appointed some of the Hellenized (secular) Jews as the High Priests, the leaders of Judea. As these High Priests came into power, they teamed up with Antiochus in spreading Hellenizism to the Jewish community. As a result, there was infighting between the Jews who wanted to assimilate and those who chose to remain separate. When Antiochus heard of these tensions and unrest in Judea, he outlawed traditional Jewish practices, including all practices at the Temple, in order to bring calmness to the region. He wanted a fully Hellenized community in Judea.
With these decrees arose Mattathias, a high priest, who was determined to fight for the restoration of Jewish law in Judea. He claimed to the Jewish people that they needed to replace their passive resistance with an active struggle. And later, it was Mattathias’ son Judah the Maaccabee who lead the Jewish people in a victorious revolt against the Greeks. Most of us through childhood stories have learned about the rededication of the Temple and the celebration for eight days. But for our purposes today, I do not want to focus on the actual victory of the Maccabean Revolt. Instead, I want to focus on one of the dilemmas faced by the Maccabean warriors.
Judah and the Maccabees were fighting against Hellenization. But even the Maccabees were Hellenized. They, just like us, have two names, a Jewish name and a secular name, Judah being his Jewish name and Maccabee being his Hellenized name. The Maccabees wanted to restore Jewish practices, but they also recognized that they needed to respond to Hellenistic culture and principles. During the revolt one of the issues that arose was whether or not they would fight on Shabbat, the observance of Shabbat being one of the core components of Judaism. The Hasidean (not the Hasidim we know of today) chose not to fight in a battle on Shabbat and died as a result. The Maccabees, on the other hand, recognized that the only way to win the revolt was by fighting battles on Shabbat. Even though all these warriors were fighting for the restoration of Jewish practices in Judea, each of them had to draw their own line between Jewish and secular practices.
Both in the time of the Maccabees and today, the question of our survival depends on our ability to adapt to the secular culture while remaining committed to our Jewish traditions. Our survival as a Jewish community today is not based upon military action, but on active participation in Jewish rituals, holidays, and community events. Therefore, as we prepare for Chanukah, think about ways that you can incorporate more Jewish content to this holiday. As you light the Chanukiah each night don’t just light the candles, open the gifts and then each family member run off to do their own thing. Instead spend time each night talking about issues raised in the Chanukah story. Noam Zion and Barbara Spectre’s book “A Different Light,” found in the Temple gift shop and our library, is a great resource for these conversations. There are also many resources on the Internet. Here are just a few:
Resources from the Union of Reform Judaism (URJ)
http://urj.org/holidays/chanukah/
Chanukah Facts, Think Pieces, Projects for Children, Comic Strips, Jewish Parent Page, Music, and more.
http://rac.org/pubs/holidayguides/chanukah
Social Justice Connections to Chanukah
http://rac.org/pubs/holidayguides/chanukah/
The Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism (RAC) has a guide focused on four issues connected with Chanukah: the environment, economic justice, children’s issues (including child slavery, child poverty and bullying) and religious liberty. Click the link above for “Sustaining the Light: A Social Justice Program Guide for Chanukah.”
G-dcast Spins Chanukah
http://www.g-dcast.com/chanukah
What’s Chanukah, you ask? Click the link above to spin yourself back in time to learn the story, and why we celebrate miracles in the darkest and coldest part of the year. Great for kids.
This week I have been at the Union for Reform Judaism’s (URJ) Biennial in Washington, DC. See what’s been happening all week by going to http://www.urj.org. As I prepare to celebrate Shabbat with over 5000 Reform Jews including a group from Temple Isaiah, I feel the strength of the Maccabees and hope for our Jewish future.
Shabbat Shalom and Hag Chanukah Sameach.
Parashat Vayishlach: Genesis 32:4 - 36:43
Posted December 09 2011 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
No matter how many time I watch the Wizard of Oz, I still travel eagerly with Dorothy down the yellow brick road, anticipating her meeting up with the Scarecrow, Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion. I sing along with the munchkins, close my eyes during the scenes of the flying monkeys, and anticipate the dramatic finale when Dorothy clicks her red slippers and repeats, “There’s no place like home; there’s no place like home.”
Reading this week’s Torah portion, Vayishlach, I could almost hear Jacob thinking: “There’s no place like home,” Twenty years before, Jacob had fled from the tensions of his parents’ home - tensions he helped to provoke! Through the help of his mother Rebekah, he deceived his father Isaac, stole his brother Esau’s birthright and left behind the fallout. He sought refuge in his Uncle Laban’s house, married his cousins Leah and Rachel, became a wealthy businessman and the father of many children.
But, of course, - “There’s no place like home.” In this week’s Torah portion Jacob heeded that inner voice calling him to return home. Traveling with his wives, maidservants and children he spends a night alone in the wilderness. All through that long night he wrestles with a mysterious being- a divine messenger? God? His brother Esau? Who was this messenger? Maybe Jacob was wrestling with himself, his conscience, his anxiety at returning home.
You might have had a similar experience. In the nights before returning home from college, or summer camp; in that night before seeing a friend or loved one after a painful falling out; the night before starting a new job: We lie in bed thinking about who we are, how we have changed, and how we will be different in the future - in our homes and out. I think that as Jacob prepares to return home, he spends a restless night realizing he no longer wants to be, nor is he, the same Jacob who fled his parents’ home. He doesn’t want to be known any longer as a trickster, a liar, or a cheat. During these years away from his parents’ home he proved to himself that he could be different. He dedicated years of work in order to marry the woman of his dreams, he created a family, made a successful living, and stood up to Laban and his sons when they plotted against him. Elie Wiesel explains:
At Peniel… two Jacobs came together. There was the Jacob who had doubts about himself, fears about his future, and regrets about how he had stolen the blessing from his brother. This side of him said: “I deserve nothing, I am less than nothing, I am unworthy of celestial blessings, unworthy of my ancestors as much as of my descendants, unworthy to transmit God’s message…
And there was the other Jacob who was the ‘heroic dreamer,’ the brave, experienced, and future-looking Jacob. That voice reminded him of how he had worked to create his family and his fortune and how we had stood up to Laban and his sons when they had plotted against him. That voice reminded him that he was the son of Isaac and that through him the Jewish people was to survive. That night, the two sides of Jacob fought with each other.
Thus it makes sense when the messenger with whom he wrestled-real or imagined-tells Jacob, “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with beings divine and human and have prevailed.” Both in his heart and now in his name, Jacob was no longer the same person. As he left Peniel and continued on his journey home, he knew that he would never be the same.
On this Shabbat let us be like Jacob and take a break from our own journeys to rest and reflect: Who am I? What is really important to me? What are my responsibilities to myself and to those I love? How would I like to be different in the future?
Parashat Vayetzei: Genesis 28:10 - 32:3
Posted December 02 2011 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
Over Thanksgiving my sister had a heated discussion with her son about the veracity and tenacity of the Torah. She asked me - “the rabbi aunt” - to intervene. It will probably be a good idea for me to continue to be just the aunt who adores her nephew and stay out of this one. But my nephew brought up a question that plagues many modern Jews’ minds - including, I am sure, more than a few of you. He asked: Why do we continue to study the Torah when the ancient text contains examples of behavior and laws that we now see as wrong or even immoral?
That question will get even harder to answer when we enter the law books of Exodus and Leviticus, but exploring a possible answer is important even with regard to the stories of Genesis we read in these early months of the year. This week and in the weeks to come, we will find ourselves immersed in the turbulent saga of our Biblical patriarchs and matriarchs, specifically the lives of Jacob, Leah, Rachel and their numerous offspring. Vayetze, this week’s portion, includes Laban’s deception of Jacob when he substitutes his elder daughter, Leah, for the beloved Rachel on Jacob’s wedding night. An unethical act, yes? Of course. And in good time, Jacob will, in turn, deceive Laban, compounding the number of poor role models in the Torah. What do we learn from the imperfect characters of the Torah? What did our ancestors learn? What can we moderns learn?
As I read the familiar story again, I realized how little attention I had paid in the past to the character of Leah, aside from feeling sorry for this less-beautiful, unloved, “weak-eyed” daughter of a trickster father and a disappointed husband. I began to see Leah’s remarkable strengths emerge. Despite her physical limitations, despite the unfair hand dealt her in life, Leah determines to survive and thrive in her family. Leah, unlike Rachel, is self-reliant, resilient, ever-hopeful. Our hearts break when, with each child she bears, Leah expresses the prayer that now, surely, Jacob will begin to appreciate her. While the Torah text does not offer Leah much solace from Jacob’s mouth, the writers of the Midrash extol Leah’s piety and state that God rewards her by bringing fully half of Israel’s tribes from her fertile womb. Moreover, the Midrash states that Leah initiated a “prayer circle” composed of Jacob, herself, and Jacob’s handmaid-wives, Zilpah and Bilhah, to beg God to A"remove the curse of barrenness from Rachel.” Their prayers worked and Rachel finally bore a son, Joseph.
We read the Torah every year because we learn from stories of imperfect people and imperfect laws how to live better our own imperfect lives in a decidedly imperfect world. The Torah writers and editors offered us people and scenarios we could see ourselves in, scenarios whose lessons evolve over time as we interpret them through contemporary lenses. We extol the Torah precisely because it is not “written in stone,” but open to argument, commentary, change.
Each Shabbat we bless our children and ask that they grow up in the spirit (not the letter) of our patriarchs and matriarchs. As we say Leah’s name over our daughters, let us bring to mind her qualities of being able to transcend rejection, to move forward after defeat, to open her heart in generosity to her sister, to put the survival of her people over the placating of her ego. May we all be good enough, if imperfect, parents to teach our imperfect children the valuable lessons Leah teaches us this week.
Parashat Toledot: Genesis 25:19 - 28:9
Posted November 28 2011 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
“This is the story of Isaac, son of Abraham. Abraham begot Isaac. Isaac was forty years old when he took to wife Rebecca, daughter of Bethuel the Aramean of Paddam-aram, sister of Laban the Aramean…” If this is “the story of Isaac,” why do the first lines of our portion abbreviate even Isaac’s lineage (son of Sarah, half-brother of Ishmael), while extensively identifying that of Rebecca? Compared to his monumental father, Abraham, and his complex son, Jacob, the Torah gives us little information about our patriarch Isaac. Indeed, this portion mainly focuses not on Isaac, but on his twin sons, Jacob and Esau.
But one interesting passage is worth exploring to glean something more about Isaac himself. Like his father Abraham before him, Isaac is confronted with a famine in Canaan. Abraham’s immediate response was to journey to the region’s breadbasket - Egypt. God intercepts any such initiative by Isaac, commanding him, “Do not go down to Egypt; stay in the land (Hebrew: sh’chon ba-aretz) which I point out to you; Residein this land, and I will be with you and bless you;” (Gen. 26:2) Midrash Rabbah comments on this commandment that the Hebrew “sh’chon ba-aretz” means “establish a permanent dwelling in the Land of Israel, cultivate the land, sow the fields and dig wells there for water.”
By obeying God’s directive, by planting, watering, harvesting and being nourished by the Land of Israel, it is Isaac who leaves us the legacy of our covenant with the physical reality of the Land. Isaac is the first to have planted seeds in that soil and we learn that he “reaped a hundredfold the same year” (26:12) through his work and God’s blessing. While Abraham and Jacob were semi-nomadic shepherds, it is Isaac who set down roots, establishes a home and makes real God’s promise to give this Land to Abraham and his ancestors.
The Midrash reminds us that “sh’chon ba-aretz” has yet another meaning. Sh’chon shares its Hebrew root with the word, Shechina, the name for the Presence of God. The Midrash says that when God commanded Isaac to “stay in the land”, God was also saying, “Cause the Shechina to stay in the Land; be partners with Me in this sacred Covenant between the Holy One, the Land and your family and its descendants.” Isaac planted seeds of holiness in that ancient Land, to be redeemed by succeeding generations.
May that Land that we have loved for so long soon know again the peace that Isaac enjoyed there; may God bless the Land of Israel and all its inhabitants with peace.
And may we who dwell in this land of plenty and freedom, where we have set down roots, take the time this Shabbat and holiday weekend to give thanks for all our many blessings, including the blessing of this synagogue community of faith, learning and friendship. I am grateful for all of you.
Parashat Chaye Sarah: Genesis 23:1 - 25:18
Posted November 18 2011 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
Thanksgiving 2011
Everywhere we are seeing adds to buy turkey for our Thanksgiving celebrations. When we think of Thanksgiving we immediately think of Turkey. In fact, Turkey is so central to our celebrations that a few years ago a tofu company created a “vegetarian turkey.” They made it look like a real turkey, and since they were not constrained by nature, they decided that it would have four legs. The company spokesperson said, “Everyone wants the drumstick at Thanksgiving, so why shouldn’t we give it to them?”
But what does Turkey have to do with Thanksgiving?
The traditional Thanksgiving dinner has Jewish roots! It is told that when the Pilgrims originally designed a feast to share with their new American Indian friends, they modeled it after what they read in their Bible about the Jewish holiday of Sukkot; which is, of course, another time we show appreciation by enjoying a nice meal with loved ones. It might have been modeled after our harvest holiday, but not surprisingly, Turkey is never mentioned in the descriptions of Sukkot.
A different story tells how Queen Elizabeth of 16th century England was eating roast goose during a harvest festival. When news was delivered to her that the Spanish Armada had sunk on its way to attack her beloved England, the queen was so pleased that she ordered a second goose to celebrate the great news. Thus, the goose became the favorite bird at harvest time in England. When the Pilgrims arrived in America from England, roasted turkey replaced roasted goose as the main cuisine because wild turkeys were more abundant and easier to find than geese. I know this to be true; as I am writing this a wild turkey is outside my office window.
Even though serving turkey on Thanksgiving did not originate from its connection to Sukkot, there is still a connection between Turkey, Judaism and Thanksgiving. The word for “turkey” in Hebrew is hodu. As in, I can’t wait to eat some hodu on Thursday. You may recognize that word, because it is also one of the Hebrew words for “thanks.” For example, during our festival services we say, “Hodu L’Adonai Ki Tov - give thanks to God, for God is good.”
Watching the Thanksgiving commercials on TV and seeing all the ads in the newspaper makes me feel that we have lost the sense of what this holiday is all about. The Hebrew can reconnect us to true meaning of Thanksgiving. Just as the word hodu means both turkey and thanks, our purpose of coming together for a turkey dinner on Thanksgiving is to give thanks; yet that is the element that often gets forgotten at the Thanksgiving table. It is quintessentially Jewish to express thanks for the blessings in our lives and should be part of all our celebrations, Jewish or not.
There are myriad ways to express gratitude. Here are a few resources you can use at your Thanksgiving table:
American Jewish World Service (AJWS) Reading for the Thanksgiving Table
http://ajws.org/hunger/ghs/materials/2011_thanksgiving-prayer.pdf
Thanksgiving Seders by Rabbi Phyllis Sommer - Loosely based on the Passover seder, these three Thanksgiving seders bring some ritual to the Thanksgiving meal. You can also choose one of the prayers to say at the beginning of your meal.
http://blogs.rj.org/reform/2009/11/rituals-for-thanksgiving.html
URJ Holiday Happenings: Thanksgiving- For families with kids birth-6 years old
http://urj.org/kd/_temp/A888A38E-9ECF-D073-A979A29D6F1498B2/HH_Thanksgiving.pdf
A Compilation of Thanksgiving Prayers at Ritualwell.
http://www.ritualwell.org/categories/462
In this coming week, as we work to prepare our Thanksgiving meals let us be mindful of the true meaning of this holiday and take a moment to offer a blessing of thanksgiving for the bounty in your life. I hope you and your families enjoy the time you will spend together, and as they say in Israel, Chag ha-Hodaya Sameach. Happy Thanksgiving!
Parashat Vayera: Genesis 18:1 - 22:24
Posted November 11 2011 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
I wish I had a dollar (to give to tzedakah!) for every person who has said to me, “I don’t believe in God.” The statement is most often linked to other questions or declarations, like, “Can I still be considered a Jew?” or “This makes praying from the Siddur very difficult /meaningless/ tedious” or “What should I tell my children when they ask about God”?
From the earliest origins of Judaism, our people have wrestled with how and if we believe in God; we have struggled with who and what God might be; we have offered countless descriptions - and their opposites - of the nature of God’s presence. And, we have tolerated and embraced those in our midst who struggle to believe or who deny belief.
This week’s Torah portion gives us an intriguing suggestion about belief in God. The first sentence of the portion, translated literally from the Hebrew, is: “There appeared to him [Abraham], Adonai, by the terebinths of Mamre as he sat near the opening of his tent, in the heat of the day.” Right away we see what many commentators noticed: the syntax of the first words is odd, out of kilter. Why did it not say, “Adonai appeared to him there…”? Maimonides, the great medieval philosopher, said the text is written this way to emphasize that God (having no body) does not move or change or appear - God simply is, everywhere, perfectly and always present. Therefore we are meant to understand that the action in the sentence is on Abraham’s part; Abraham recognizes at this moment that God was, is and will always be there. Once that realization happens, “there appeared to him [Abraham], Adonai.”
To help us untangle and comprehend this philosophical argument, a Hassidic commentary, the Or Ha- Hayyim (18th century), proposes that God’s revelation to human beings depends on our drawing near to God and not the other way around. For example, says the commentator, notice the sequence of these famous words from Song of Songs 6:3: “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.” The implication is that first I give myself to my beloved and only then does my beloved give himself to me. As Ha-Hayyim emphasizes: It is according to a person’s spiritual readiness and preparation that the person will attain an awareness of God. Only then will ultimate awareness fill him/her with the ability lovingly to comprehend God. The same idea is also written in Proverbs 8:17: “Those who love Me, I love; and those who seek Me will find Me.” When we prepare ourselves, when we let go of our resistance, when we move (spiritually, psychologically, emotionally) toward God, then, “there appeared to ‘us’, Adonai,” just as there, in that place of Abraham’s openness, did Adonai appear to him.
The next time you feel tempted to say - out loud or to yourself - “I don’t believe in God,” try saying instead, “I want to be open to the possibility of God.” See what it feels like. Take a small step toward the Holy One. Stay open. Take another step. Don’t be discouraged. Make up your own prayers if the ones in the Siddur don’t work. Be patient. Stay open to the possibility. Let me know what/who appears.
Parashat Lech Lecha: Genesis 12:1-17:27
Posted November 04 2011 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
The saying goes, “the third time is a charm.” As we read the third Torah portion of our yearly cycle on this Shabbat, God begins again for a third time. God started with Adam giving him one instruction to follow. God’s ultimate goal was allowing people to have freedom of choice between good and bad. Adam and his descendents were not successful. Ten generations later, God begins again with a single righteous family. Noah had an advantage over Adam, because he was already more righteous than his neighbors. Noah’s descendents also disappoint God. In this week’s Torah portion Lech Lecha, God tries a different strategy. Aviva Zornberg explains, “for the first time, a journey is undertaken, not as an act of exile (Adam and Cain) or a quest (the generation of Babel) but as a response to a divine imperative.” God says to Abram:
“Lech Lecha- Go, yourself,
from your land,
from the land of your birth,
from the house of your father
to a land that I will show you.
I will make of you a great nation,
I will bless you,
I will make your name great,
and you shall be a blessing.
I will bless those who bless you
and those who curse you, I will curse.
And all the families of the earth will bless themselves by you.” (Genesis 12:1-3)
On this third, and successful attempt, God now seeks to create a community, a people that is in a tightly bound relationship with God. God’s hope is that because the people are in community, they will sustain and reinforce each other. In this way, ordinary people can be capable of displaying extraordinary behavior.
Being in a community, though, is not enough. God’s command and promise to Abraham only marks the first of the covenantal agreements between God and the descendents of Abraham. The second agreement happens at Sinai when the Israelites receive the Ten Commandments. Why is there a need for two distinct covenants?
Rabbi Soloveichik explains that the covenants in the Torah represent two categories, one of fate and one of faith. In Genesis, “Abraham and Sarah join into a covenant of fate with God, one that defines the family-nation, built generation after generation, Jew-by-Jew. As a covenant of fate, Jews-by-birth have no choice as to their connection with this people; for by fate they are born into…[it]... On the other hand, Jews have a choice whether or not to join into the religious covenant made between God and the Children of Israel in the desert… [at Sinai]; this is a covenant of faith.”
We often think of the journey towards Sinai beginning when the Israelites cross the Red Sea. But in fact, the journey begins this Shabbat. Whether we were born Jewish, choose Judaism, or have made a commitment to raise Jewish children, when we hear “Lech Lecha- Go Forth!” we are reminded that being Jewish is about being part of a community. Perhaps the covenant of fate is imposed on us, but today we have the choice of whether or not we want to be part of this community. Adam, Eve, Cain and Noah taught us that we can’t do it on our own. When we are in relationship with others and active members of our community; we strengthen one another and reinforce our Jewish identity and values.
As Abraham’s excursion begins we are also reminded that we too are on a journey towards our covenant of faith. This week, Torah invites each of us to consider anew how we might incorporate the ideals of Torah into our lives-whether we want to keep Shabbat or reject it, to honor our parents or to disregard them, to speak out for justice or remain quiet. As we travel through Torah with the descendants of Abraham, we too are navigating between fate and faith.
“Lech L’cha,” God commands, “Go forth!” On this Shabbat, let us draw our attention both to the community that we have chosen and to the personal journeys on which we embark. This week, Torah reminds us that the two are inextricably interconnected, and that each one fosters the other. Draw outward and inward. Both directions will ultimately lead to Sinai.
Parashat Noach: Genesis 6:9-11:32
Posted October 28 2011 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
“Noah was a righteous man (ish tzadik), blameless/innocent in his generation; Noah walked with God” (Genesis 6:9). In this week’s Torah portion, Noah is presented as an upstanding citizen. He is the one singled out to build the ark and survive the flood. Noah’s leadership is often compared to Abraham who we will meet again in next week’s Torah portion. Noah is described as being righteous, perfect and walking with God yet; Rabbi Moses Alshekh (c1498-1593) along with other scholars asks “Why are Jews not considered to be the descendants of Noah but rather of Abraham…?” Alshekh answers:
The explanation is that even though Noah was righteous and perfect in his actions, he was not the ideal of the righteous Jew. “Noah walked with God,” not with people, not with others-he was not interested in humanity, in the environment. His righteousness was directed inward, to himself and his family…
Noah learned that his world was coming to an end and he was given a choice: Focus inward or focus outward? As Rabbi Jocee Hudson explains, he could “focus inward: Either in despair, or personal triumph, or fear, or in an attempt to sustain life as he had known it. Or focus outward: Like the prophets of the biblical world and modern times, rail against injustice, seek ways to heal the brokenness, reach out to others, affect change.” Noah focused inward. Alshekh continues:
[Noah] was commanded by God to build an ark-he built it board by board and nail by nail, for a hundred and twenty consecutive years, and it never crossed his mind that there might be a way to avert God’s decree and save the world from destruction.
Noah was so focused on hammering and nailing (and how productive must he have felt in his toils!) that he never once looked up. Silently he builds the ark, gathers his family and animals, and boards the ark. Not once during the story of the flood do we hear his voice. Not once does he lift up his eyes and ask, “how can I help the people and the world around me?”
Alshekh reminds us that we are the children of Abraham. In the next few weeks we will see that Abraham did just the opposite. He chose to focus outward: to see the world around him, speak up on behalf of others and eagerly work to affect change.
During the High Holy Days I have the privilege of praying with our teen community. This year at our Rosh Hashanah service the teens were asked what social issue was most important to them, and the #1 response was Hunger. As the children of Abraham, they want to make a difference. This year they will be participating in a Fight Hunger Campaign and to kick it off they will be joining the American Jewish World Service (AJWS) and Jewish communities around the nation for Global Hunger Shabbat (November 5-6) followed by 18 Days of Action leading up to Thanksgiving. Isaiah Teens will be leading and participating in a number of activities to address hunger locally and globally as part of our Fight Hunger Campaign! They want you to get involved as well. Here is what you can do:
Food Drive for Contra Costa Food Bank
Even after our food drive during the High Holy Days, the Contra Costa Food Bank still needs donations. Bring non-perishable donations to Temple Isaiah between now and Thanksgiving. Our 7th graders will deliver them to the food bank as part of their Mitzvah corps field trip. You can also choose to send in a check to Temple Isaiah’s Holiday Dinner Drive, benefiting the Food Bank. Click here for more information.
Learn More. Take Action.
Starting Sunday, November 6th - 18 Days of Action - Join our Teens and sign up to get daily emails from AJWS on how you can fight for food justice every day - usually in three minutes or less! Go to http://www.ajws.org/hunger/ghs to sign up and to learn more about hunger issues worldwide!
Today we are given a choice. Will we be the descendents of Noah or the descendents of Abraham? I hope each of you in the coming weeks will choose to look out to the world around us and join our teens in their fight to end hunger.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Alissa Forrest
.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
Parashat Beresheet: Genesis 1:1 - 6:8
Posted October 21 2011 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
We experience many dramatic and spiritual moments during the month of Tishri, the month of holidays that begins with the new moon of Rosh Hashana, flows through Yom Kippur to the full moon of rejoicing on Sukkot, and as the moon wanes carries us through the week to the celebration of Simchat Torah and Shemini Atzeret. In a mere 23 days our liturgy and rituals bring us up and down emotionally, from serious self-criticism to living the good life of food and drink in the sukkah. When, in our sanctuary, we unroll the entire scroll of the Torah on Simchat Torah, it is as if the history of humanity and of our people is spread before us to relive: the creation of the world, Abram’s call to covenant, slavery and redemption from Egypt, God’s voice heard at Sinai, Moses’ eternal teachings to us, God’s people. All there, to see again, to study again, to live again.
We are back at the beginning, at Beresheet, ready to start, to re-start, to reread and renew our connection to the ancient wisdom that is ever-new. The rabbis of the Talmud taught that our study, year after year, deepens as we dig deeper into the meaning hidden beneath the plain (not always so clear!) meaning of the text. They offer us an acronym to help us know there are at least four levels of understanding: PaRDeS. P is for p’shat, the plain, simple, direct meaning. There is a fruit on the “tree of good and evil” in the garden that God warns Adam not to touch. A fruit is a fruit. (BTW: The text does not say ‘apple’ anywhere.)
R is for Remez, the ‘hints’ that the text contains that point to deeper, hidden, allegoric or symbolic meanings. When God tells Adam not to eat of the tree, ‘for as soon as you eat of it, you shall die,’ one commentator takes this as a hint of a deeper meaning (because Adam and Eve do not die when they eat). Ramban says, rather, God means, ‘you shall realize that you are mortal. You will have to live with the knowledge that one day you will die, a burden of awareness that no other creature bears.”
Drash is commentary, explication, a drawing out of the meaning through comparison with other, similar sources and through the imaginative offerings of the commentator (including you and me). Most often the midrashim, the commentaries ancient and modern, spring from questions we ask of the text or ellipses we need to fill in. Why did God neglect to tell Eve about the prohibition? Why did Adam give misinformation to her? Send me your answers, your midrashim.
S leads us to Sod, the secret, mysterious and mystical meaning hidden deep in the text and often left to the mystics among us (not me) to divine from the text.
PaRDes is also a Hebrew word that means field, orchard, and even Paradise, like that long ago garden in Eden. Perhaps the rabbis are hinting at the secret and not-so-secret pleasures derived from the study of Torah, the paradise full of intellect, humor, mystery, myth, morality and law in those beautiful black letters on that creamy parchment. Many people at Temple Isaiah know the ‘paradise” of Torah study on Shabbat mornings every week. Are you ready to dive into paradise in this New Year? No experience required.
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Judy Shanks
Let us rejoice together on the release of Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit from his years-long captivity in Gaza. We thank God and all who worked for his freedom:
Our God and God of our ancestors, during this season of our rejoicing, we raise our hearts to You in joy, happiness, and thanksgiving for the great kindness that You have shown Gilad, the son of Aviva and Noam Shalit. We are grateful that You have restored him safely from his place of capture to his family, his country and his people. Today and in the future may Gilad know joy in his heart, peace of mind and success in all his endeavors together with his family and all Israel. Sovereign of the Universe, may this redemption not bring in its wake any harm or mishap, neither this year nor in years to come; but in Your great compassion spread over us the sukkah of compassion, life and peace. Amen.
[adapted from a prayer written by the Israeli Masorati (Conservative) movement]
Sukkot 5772
Posted October 14 2011 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
Last Sunday, the day after Yom Kippur, I spent the afternoon sitting on the patio of a Sonoma winery. As I enjoyed my glass of wine and looked at the grapes ready to be harvested I knew Sukkot was just a few days away. Sukkot is called Z’man Simchateinu, the Time of Rejoicing. For seven days, starting this past Wednesday, we are commanded to be joyful, as it says in the Torah, “On the first day you shall take the product of hadar trees, branches of palm trees, boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook, and you shall REJOICE before Adonai your God seven days.” (Lev. 23:40) Sukkot is also called Chag Ha-Asif, the “Festival of the Ingathering.” This holiday is the time when we give thanks for the bounty of the earth at the occasion of the fall harvest. Rabbi Shelton Donnell, explains:
“For our farmer ancestors, this was the time for abundance, when the hunger and careful rationing of food that marked the rest of the year gave way to feasting and drinking in accordance with the success of the harvest. Also during the fall, the new crush of grapes meant that something had to be done with last year’s vintage: Fermentation jars had to be emptied to make room for the new wine. Food was plentiful, the wine flowed, and we can only imagine what Sukkot must have been like for our ancestors and why it was called He-Chag ‘The Festival,’ by the Rabbis. It must have been everyone’s favorite festival.”
Abundance and enjoyment-these are the themes of Sukkot. For seven days, we eat, sleep and visit with guests in our sukkah. After the hard work of the High Holy Days, Sukkot is a time of pleasure and gratification. At times of celebration it is easy to get lost in our joy and forget about the world around us. We are commanded to rejoice abundantly, but Maimonides teaches:
“When a person eats and drinks in celebration of a festival, he is obligated to feed converts, orphans, widows, and others who are destitute and poor. In contrast, a person who locks the gates of his courtyard and eats and drinks with his children and his wife, without feeding the poor and the embittered, is not indulging in rejoicing associated with a mitzvah, but rather the rejoicing of his gut…This rejoicing is a disgrace…” (Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Sh’vitat Yom Tov 6:18)
Fulfilling the mitzvah of joy requires us to look beyond ourselves. Even in the midst of our celebrations we need to be particularly attentive to the needs of others. For those kinesthetic learners amongst us, leaving our physical and secure homes to live in the flimsy sukkah also helps us recognize the precious fragility of human life. Open on all sides, the sukkah reminds us of the importance of doing all we can to help those in need around us.
Rabbi Nina Beth Cardin further explains:
“Sukkot reminds us that ultimate security is found not within the walls of our home but in the presence of God and one another…The walls of our sukkot may make us vulnerable, but they make us available, too, to receive the kindness and the support of one another, to hear when another calls out in need, to poke our heads in to see whether anybody is up for a chat and a cup of coffee…Sukkot reminds us that freedom is enjoyed best not when we are hidden away behind our locked doors but rather when we are able to open our homes and our hearts to one another.” (The Tapestry of Jewish Time)
On this Shabbat during Sukkot, let our celebration of abundance and our enjoyment of the fall harvest provide us with opportunities for thanksgiving and appreciation. And let each of us be moved to step outside our walls and open ourselves up to the people around us.
Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sukkot Sameach,
Rabbi Alissa Forrest
Yom Kippur 5772
Posted October 07 2011 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
Rabbi Marc Wolf recently described a conversation he had with a friend in which the friend described the way he experienced his life at that point, “He said it felt as if he were a passenger on a train, and that being on a train meant there was a set destination and stops along the way, and absolutely no deviation from the proscribed course. It wasn’t that he was unhappy with the direction; it wasn’t that he regretted any stop he had made along the way. What bothered him was a particular moment of realization: he wasn’t sure what was driving the engines or even if he wanted to continue on that particular track.”
As we prepare to enter into the holiest day in the Jewish calendar -a long Shabbat when all pleasures take a break to make room for contemplation, reflection, looking back and planning forward - I invite you to take the time to explore what it is that drives your engine. We fly planes on auto-pilot, we put the engines of our cars on cruise control… We can’t do that with our lives. The destination of every human being is known to us, but the course of travel, the stops we make, the detours we take, the company we journey with, these are all in our hands. Is what drives us an ego trip? Is it material wealth? Is it ‘happy, happy, happy’ all the time, a pleasure that can only be satisfied by addictions of all kind? Or, is there a sacred purpose to our journey from birth to death? Are we meant to be healers of broken places? Menders of broken relationships? Pursuers of peace? What drives us? Is it the Yetzer ha-ra, the little impulse over which we often lose control or it it the Yetzer Tov, the inclination to act as agents of the divine on earth? Let your soul soar during the fast of Yom Kippur, give your daily pleasures a break and see what joy you can discover in contemplation, in prayer, in community. May you emerge from this day ready to rejoice with life’s daily offerings of love and friendship, of solidarity and support. Let us build together a physical Sukkah to celebrate, and continue spreading a Sukat Shalom, a dwelling of peace for all the earth inhabitants.
I wish each of you a G’mar Tov, an easy fast and a good end to these Days of Awe. For me the Great Shabbat will continue as I enter a sabbatical leave, an extension of this day to contemplate life’s journey, refresh my soul, study and teach for a few months, away from my beloved community at Temple Isaiah. May we all discover “what drives our engines!”
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Roberto D. Graetz
.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
Parashat Nitzavim - Vayelech: Deuteronomy 29:9-31:30
Posted September 23 2011 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
Reading this week’s Torah portions, Nitzavim-Vayelech, is truly a further attempt to get us ready for the High Holy Days in the week to follow. The preparation that took place during the month of Elul required introspection and self-analysis: where did we go wrong, who do we seek out to make amends, how do we bring ourselves to the next level in spiritual development that will make us better human beings. The melodies we’ll chant on Selichot, right after this Shabbat is over take us, in a way, out of our individual soul searching into the realm of finding our voice within the community. It is but a rehearsal of the liturgical themes that will haunt us during the High Holy Day season.
The Shabbat Torah reading adds yet another dimension: It speaks to us of Covenant and a life of choices, and while doing so it discounts all of our easy mouthed excuses not to act in the way we are supposed to.
“For this commandment… is not too hard for you, neither is it too far off. It is not in heaven that you should ask…” We will read these words again in the Yom Kippur Reform Torah Reading, but for now they remind us that the task of seeing the sacred in every human being and acting ‘as if’ we were truly in God’s image, is not an impossible task only accessible to saints and martyrs. It is within each of us if we make the right choices.
Then the text drives it home: “I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse; therefore choose life, that you may live…” Judaism affirms free will yet recognizes that every time we make a choice we -in some way- limit further choices and create our own constrains on free will. If we do a mitzvah, the sages taught, it is most likely that it will engender another mitzvah; if we act wrongly it will most likely engender further wrong doing. We can escape bad circumstances and we can also fall when we are generally good, but we’ll have to work harder to come back to the right path. It is always about the choices we make. It is about doing the right thing.
So what are some of our wishes for the New Year that is fast approaching? As we read this week’s Torah portion I pray for good choices for all of us. May they be life affirming, may they be healthy for our bodies, deepening for our souls,loving for our relationships, of deep connections for our community, rooted in our ancient tradition leading towards peace for our people, Israel and the world.
Shabbat Shalom and L’Shanah Tovah from our house to yours,
Rabbi Roberto D. Graetz
.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
Parashat Ki Tavo: Deuteronomy 26:1-29:8
Posted September 16 2011 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
Bart Simpson often has a way of expressing the realities of our society. During one episode Bart is asked to say grace at the family dinner table. He offers the following words: “Dear God, we paid for all this stuff ourselves, so thanks for nothing.” He is right; the Simpson family did pay for the food on his table, but in typical fashion he is missing the bigger picture.
In this week’s Torah portion, Ki Tavo, the Israelites are provided with the model of Jewish thanksgiving. Once they enter the Promised Land and settle in it, they are to express their gratitude by putting their first fruits into a basket and bringing them to Jerusalem. They then recite the following declaration to God, one you might recognize from our Passover Haggadah:
“Arami Oved Avi-my father was a wandering Aramean. He went down to Egypt with meager numbers and dwelt there; but there he became a great and very populous nation. The Egyptians dealt harshly with us and oppressed us; they imposed heavy labor upon us. We cried to Adonai, the God of our fathers, and Adonai heard our plea and saw our plight, our misery, and our oppression. Adonai freed us from Egypt by a mighty hand, an outstretched arm and awesome power, and by signs and portents. God brought us to this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. Wherefore I now bring the first fruits of the soil which You, O Adonai, have given me.”
Leaving the basket before the altar, the farmer bows low before Adonai. But that’s not it. As an act of thankfulness, the farmer also shares some of the first fruits with the priest and the stranger because God bestowed upon him and his household the gift of these crops. (Deut. 26:1-10)
In the Torah, typically, the words of prayers are not scripted; rather, they are left to the inspiration of the worshiper’s heart. In fact, the first-fruits ceremony is the only instance in which the Torah provides specific words that pray-ers are required to address to God. Why, in this instance, and only in this instance, are the words to the ritual provided? When expressing thanks we tend to focus on the gift. But, the first-fruits ceremony goes beyond a simple thank you for the harvest. In this instance, the scripted words of the ritual are designed to draw the farmer’s focus beyond the fruits, and onto the meaning that lies behind them.
The medieval commentator Abravanel points out that the power of these words is to remind us that neither the Land nor the harvest it has yielded are the result of our efforts alone. Both are gifts from God. By participating in this ritual, the Israelites recognize their dependence upon God. The farmers planted the seeds and gathered the harvest, but God was the source of this blessing.
Maimonides, another medieval commentator, suggests that not only does this ritual remind us of our dependence upon God, but these declarations also promote humility. After settling in the Promised Land, the people are told to stop and appreciate how far they have come. They are called upon to acknowledge their humble beginnings as slaves in Egypt and to recognize that, without God’s help and guidance, they would not have been able to achieve this freedom and arrive in this promised place. Maimonides explains that in times of wealth and comfort, it is easy to fall victim to the vices of insolence and arrogance, and to abandon all good principles. When our ancestors presented a certain portion of their harvest to God and recalled the day in which they came out of Egypt, they were reminded that they could not do anything entirely on their own.
There is still another lesson to be learned from this ritual. After presenting the first fruits before God, the farmer is required to provide a portion of the harvest to the priest, the stranger, the fatherless and the widow. Our Torah teaches us that simply acknowledging and thanking God is not enough. We must express our appreciation through acts of generosity. Gratitude is more than a pleasant feeling. It is a call to action. It is motivating, empowering and uplifting. When we recognize the blessings in our lives, we should be moved to share and increase the good we have received. It is only when we have shared these blessings with others, that we can be truly satisfied.
As we move closer to the Days of Awe, let each of us pay closer attention to the blessings in our lives. Let us recognize that we came from slavery and that our freedom is a gift from God. Let us recognize that we are not alone in this world, but are connected into a tightly constructed web of being. We owe others for who we are. And finally, let us remember the central message of our parashah, that an essential element of gratitude is giving.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Alissa Forrest
.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
Posted February 03 2012 by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)