B'Chukotai: We Need a Reset...

Next Saturday night, June 8th, we will be celebrating the holiday of Shavuot, when - according to Tradition - we received the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai.

This year at Ohev, we are partnering with Beth Israel in Media to first hear a panel discussion (with Muslim and Christian faith leaders), then learn together in breakout discussions, and later also share experiences of chanting, meditation, and singing, all centered on a common theme. And this year, our theme is Spiritual Resilience. I can't speak for you, dear reader, but I imagine MANY people are feeling utterly exhausted by political tensions, environmental disasters, threats of war, religious battles and scandals, and a general sense of uncertainty, chaos, and concern. My rabbinic colleagues and I felt it might be a good time to discuss Spiritual Resilience; how do the texts/practices/stories/rituals of our various traditions help us keep going in troubled times? How do we replenish, where do we go for support and nourishment, and how do we soldier on in spite of all the obstacles? Are you curious to know what the answers are? Well, let's talk.

So, I already told you that this whole Resilience-discussion is taking place NEXT Saturday, but how then is it relevant to the Torah THIS week? Well, I already had

Shavuot on my mind, so when I opened up the Chumash to look at our reading, B'Chukotai, it was like I was already wearing a filter and looking for connections. Sure enough, I found something. Our parashah concludes the Book of Leviticus, and offers as its final subject in this volume on laws, rules, and regulations, a series of instructions regarding donations to the Temple. Inevitably, this leads to a discussion of wealth and poverty, and acknowledging the have's and have-not's in society. The Torah desperately tries to urge our ancestors to create (and maintain) just and fair community structures, so that social stratification doesn't keep widening and widening. One major tool that the Torah attempts to implement in this regard is the Jubilee Year, the Yovel.

In essence, the Jubilee Year is meant to be an occasion, every fifty years, where land reverts back to its original owners. So anyone who sold off land due to famine or poverty would get a chance to start over.

But it isn't hard to imagine who was wholly AGAINST this concept, and the kind of societal power those people might wield. Nonetheless, the Torah keeps pushing and pushing, demanding fairness. Ultimately, we don't know how often the Jubilee got implemented, or if it leveled the playing field as much as the ancient Biblical author had hoped. If nothing else, it should serve as a reminder to us all that we need a RESET. That is where I return to the idea of Spiritual Resilience. When the status quo drones on endlessly, when we perpetuate bad behaviors because they're just how it's ALWAYS been done, or when our apathy, lethargy, and fatigue cripple us and make us unable to even imagine change, let alone implement it; we need a reset.

It's not the ONLY tool. Next weekend, we will discuss many ways to recharge, lean on one another, and seek inspiration in the texts and practices of our various

traditions. But the Biblical Jubilee Year can inspire us to envision HOW to start afresh, get out of old ruts, and think outside various boxes. It may even have been aspirational, but nevertheless the text itself, and millennia of subsequent commentators, continued unrelentingly to push the concept of a do-over, a "mulligan," an equalizer that levels the playing field. So come and participate on June 8th. Delve into Muslim, Christian, and Jewish texts and rituals that renew our spirits and uplift our souls. As we head into the summer, let's hit the "reset" button, and approach our troubled world with new eyes, greater support for one another, and an unyielding insistence that better times lay ahead. See you on the eighth!


CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. The U.S. Army on Flickr
2. Uni Hamburg on Wikimedia Commons
3. gillicious on Flickr
4. flattop341 on Flickr

Emor: Jewish Traditions; Then, Then, and Now

I lose track. It was easier to refer to old blog posts in my first few years of doing this, but now it's getting a bit more challenging. I've probably said this... a bunch of times, but I still find it bears repeating: We do not live Biblical Judaism. Jewish life

today - whether you're talking Reform, Reconstructionist, Conservative, and yes, even Orthodox practice - is all seen through the lens or prism of rabbinic interpretation. In other words, we are NOT literalists!! None of us! Sacred texts are very important, to all religions and traditions, but they MUST come with a system and a method for interpretation, because life is always evolving, so our ways of making sense of life and how to live it must evolve too. Stated even more bluntly: This is not a choice! It is an absolute necessity. If we don't interpret, our practices become stale and stuck, and people WILL get hurt. I want to give a few examples of this process from our Torah portion, but not simply so you can see it taking place. It is paramount that you understand that interpretation is 100% a matter of life and death. We do this... or we die.

Having started out so melodramatic, I want to now pull back a little. My examples are a bit more mundane... but that shouldn't fool you into thinking my conclusion above was ANY less serious. But what I actually wanted to examine with you are a few laws regarding Jewish holidays. You see,

our Torah portion outlines many of the central mitzvot for various holidays throughout the year. This is the source text for some REALLY well-known observances, though it might surprise you to hear how different they are in the Torah from what we do today. Example #1: The Torah tells us to celebrate Passover in the first month of the year. That might already raise an eyebrow, because Rosh Hashanah, our Jewish New Year, is celebrated in the SEVENTH month! Go figure. Anyway, the Torah tells us: "on the 14th day of the month, at twilight, there shall be a passover offering to Adonai... and on the 15th day of the month, [observe] Adonai's Feast of Unleavened Bread... for seven days." (Lev. 23:5-6) "Unleavened Bread" is matzah, right? Does anyone else think it's weird how the text separates the Passover offering (on the 14th day) from the Matzah Holiday (starting on the 15th)? Today, these are two names for THE SAME holiday... but the Torah describes them as consecutive holidays. Well, that's different...

The holiday clearly evolved over millennia, especially after the destruction of the Second Temple (in 70 CE) when the earliest rabbis replaced the ancient priests. Next, the Torah tells us to count seven complete weeks, and then hold "a celebration; a sacred occasion" (v. 21). No name is given, but today we call
this holiday "Shavuot," meaning "weeks," because of the counting that is commanded. But again, the text never names the holiday, nor does it specify rituals or practices. This is Example #2 - the rabbis cobbled together a holiday from the bits and pieces instructed in the text. I guess you could call that cheating... or you could see it as the necessary life-blood of a people trying to stay relevant and current as times change. I guess it's a coin-toss really... And then, Example #3 is a third major festival, observed in the seventh month. On Sukkot, we gather four species of plant - from the palm, willow, myrtle, and citron (etrog) trees - and we hold them together and shake them. It's kind of a goofy ritual, to be honest. But it's in the Torah, right??? Well, the text DOES tell us to take these four items, and it says "rejoice before Adonai, your God, seven days" (v. 40). But, what does THAT mean?!? You guessed it; the rabbis step in and create the lulav waving we know and love today, as an interpretation of "rejoice." But is that what the text REALLY meant, way back then?? Your guess is as good as mine...

Let's repeat it one more time, with feeling: We do NOT live Biblical Judaism. We are still The People Of The Book... but not an immutable, rigid, entrenched book.

Sure, a lot of practitioners have turned unyielding over time. We see fundamentalism everywhere, and it's almost always destructive, cold-hearted, and cruel... but one thing it is NOT is original. From its inception, our text was based on love and compassion, and I maintain that ALL religions were similarly formed from the outset. If and when we let them get unbending, that's when serious damage is done. The key to life and kindness and rituals you can live (and not die...) by, is flexibility and interpretation. Do NOT yield religion to the crazies! It is not theirs to own. For thousands of years, practitioners of every religion have known that they MUST evolve to survive, or they will (literally) kill off their adherents. This has been true for eons; don't let anyone tell you otherwise. And then... let's keep moving.


CC images in this blog post courtesy of:
1. cupolagallery.com
2. Avital Pinnick on Flickr
3. Jblab on Wikimedia Commons
4. Tony Felgueiras on Flickr

Kedoshim: A Jew, a Tattoo, and a Law that isn't True

There is a fine line between expressing a general rule and expressing personal opinion. I find that line incredibly infuriating. In a rabbinic context (though you can

find similar "blurriness" basically everywhere), this is sometimes displayed in the form of a rabbi issuing a legal verdict on a contemporary issue... and then subtly throwing in a personal bias. I don't like when this happens. (See? Bias!) My objection isn't against our expressing opinions, but that we should be open, honest, and transparent about our personal positions. We should differentiate them from objective, general statements. Let me give you an example from this week's Torah portion, and an issue I get asked about quite frequently. Tattoos. Everyone "knows" that Jews are FORBIDDEN from getting tattoos, and if they obstinately transgress this prohibition, they can NEVER be buried in a Jewish cemetery!! My apologies to all the Jewish mothers (and fathers) out there... but this belief is FALSE.

The infamous verse underlying this ban comes from our Torah portion. Leviticus, 19:28: "You shall not make gashes in your flesh for the dead, or incise any marks

on yourselves; I am Adonai." Ok, so first of all, we need to view this verse in context. Right before v. 28, the Torah forbid divination (v. 26), and right after, it also outlawed "turning to ghosts and inquiring of spirits" (v. 31). So right away, one could argue (and many commentators do!) that we're mainly talking about cult-tattoos. These were marks done for ritual purposes, often with an idolatrous intention. Even before we get deeper under the skin of this issue (ha, ha!), a lenient authority could already posit that most people's tattoos do NOT qualify as pagan, heretical, deistic, ritualistic markings! Even ones that have Hebrew words, Divine names, or sacrilegious imagery, still are not likely being done for cultic purposes. So that's Strike One.

I would also add that the Torah NEVER links these abhorrent practices to cemetery bans, nor do many rabbinic authorities.

But let's spend a minute arguing FOR the restriction: Getting a tattoo violates Jewish law, so therefore you are a person who does not care (or not enough anyway) about Halachah. By that logic, however, people who did not keep Kosher or the laws of Shabbat "should" be barred as well, and surely no rabbinic authorities suggest we EXPAND this restriction! In other words, Strike Two; even if you think tattoos are wrong, and against Jewish law, there is NO BASIS for forbidding that person from being buried in a Jewish cemetery, or restricting their participation in ANY part of Jewish, ritual life. And yes, I'd like to offer a Strike Three as well.

The Conservative Movement's opinion on this issue was authored by Rabbi Alan Lucas. Rabbi Lucas upholds the prohibition against tattooing, though unequivocally agrees with my Strike Two above; a Jew with tattoos has NOT forfeited any Jewish

rights. His argument for maintaining the ban, however, brings me back to my first point at the top of this post - objective statement vs. subjective opinion. Rabbi Lucas writes, "we are created b'Tzelem Elokim (in the image of God) and... our bodies are to be viewed as a precious gift on loan from God, to be entrusted into our care and [are] not our personal property to do with as we choose." This SOUNDS like a general statement, but it actually makes a HUGE assumption; that tattooing your skin disrespects your body. That is, at best, a debatable point! If our bodies are not our personal property, shouldn't the same prohibitions be enforced against people who overeat, smoke, don't exercise enough, or change their hair color?!?! Do you see my point? Insisting that THIS specific practice disrespects the body seems somewhat arbitrary... and quite judgmental.

There's more we could say here, including adding the tragic and uncomfortable subject of forced tattooing, as was done to Jews during the Holocaust. It's not a

simple matter of "yes" or "no." I'm happy to keep discussing this, if anyone is interested. For now, my two main points are, if you think the practice is entirely forbidden and you're jeopardizing your cemetery plot, you are wrong. And, perhaps more importantly, look for the subtle - but crucial - difference between objective reality and subjective opinion. It matters a lot. And when we shame other people, we leave some pretty permanent marks, and ones that cut a whole lot deeper than just under the skin...


CC images in this blog post courtesy of:
1. Brett Sayles on Pexels.com
2. pxhere.com
3. Rudi Riet on Flickr
4. pngimg.com
5. Lamilli on Wikimedia Commons

Acharei Mot: What Now?

One of the most enduring concepts in Judaism, which has played a critical role in keeping us alive for so many millennia, is the notion of time being circular, not linear. Just think about the cycle of the year, the cycle of life, concluding the Book of

Deuteronomy only to immediately restart at Genesis, or books like Ecclesiastes which remind us over and over again, "There's nothing new under the sun." Every volume of Talmud begins on Page Two, because the discussions are never starting or ending, you are ALWAYS joining a conversation - a dialogue across vast distances of time AND space - already (and constantly) in progress. I submit to you that one of the most striking examples of this is death. For us, as Jews, death is a part of the life cycle, and our returning to the earth is as natural, inevitable, and harmonious as it could be. It is simply NOT the final period at the end of a story; a full-stop after which there is only nothingness. Our Torah portion is a good example of this, as is the special theme for our Shabbat here at Ohev, as is the painful observance we just passed earlier this week.

Torah portions throughout the Five Books of Moses get their names from the first significant words in that parashah. This week's reading is called "Acharei Mot," because the first verse states: "Adonai spoke to

Moses AFTER THE DEATHS of two of Aaron's sons" (Lev. 16:1). Our story, therefore, begins with death. It doesn't place death where you "might" have expected it, at the end, but rather at the start. And without going ANY further into this text, we've already learned something extremely valuable: When there is death, there will always be an "after death." Life goes on. Aaron's sons, Nadav and Avihu, died violently and tragically... and yet even then, life goes on. Despite our own feelings of depression, numbness, chaos, anger, mourning - life still goes on. This message has fundamentally strengthened the Jewish People to survive and overcome anything that may befall us.

This past week, we observed Yom Ha-Shoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day. Never before were we quite so close to the brink of extermination; ruthlessly, cold-

heartedly, methodically targeted for complete annihilation. Six million deaths, entire regions of Jews wiped out, cultures lost. But even then, even in the face of the worst atrocity imaginable, there is STILL an "Acharei Mot," a continuation after death. Though we may spend the day grieving, lighting candles, reading names of the deceased, and condemning our oppressors, we should also always, always remember that we are still here. Our story did NOT end, and our collective spirit somehow persevered and continues to be strong and vibrant. I think the mourning is important, and I would never suggest we cease remembering. But we also MUST focus on the "Acharei Mot," on reminding ourselves that death is not an ending. It too is merely one part of a cycle, a circle, that keeps going around and around.

For me, one of the most powerful - and personal - examples of this is a special Torah scroll here in our congregation, which was saved from the horrors of the Holocaust. Scrolls like these, in other congregations, are even named Holocaust

Scrolls, which I personally find problematic, because again we are focusing exclusively on death and not on life. Instead, we call ours the Lostice Torah (pronounced "LOSH-tea-tzeh"), in honor of the Czechoslovakian town from which it came. Yes, that community was destroyed, but death was not the end of their story. They too are granted an "Acharei Mot." This Saturday, May 4, is our annual Lostice Shabbat, where we DO mourn and recite the Kaddish prayer in memory of the Jews of Lostice... but we also talk about the mystic scribes who lived there, the stinky gourmet cheese they produced, and the incredible poet, Fanny Neuda, from Lostice, who in the 1840s wrote a fabulous book of prayers for women! Lostice Shabbat is truly an "Acharei Mot" story. And I pray it reminds us all that tragedy, hardship, scandal, illness, and challenge may all be inescapable parts of life. But we persevere. The cycle continues, life goes on, and there will ALWAYS be another chapter to the story, even After Death.


CC images in this blog post courtesy of:
1. Pat Castaldo on Flickr
2. Phillippe Put on Flickr
3. Sterling Ely on Flickr
4. Photo of our Lostice Torah (black mantle) among the other Ohev Shalom scrolls, courtesy of Rabbi Gerber

L'Chaim (newsletter) article - May, 2019: The Milestones are Just the Beginning…

Wanna hear something crazy? Next month, when I write my June L’Chaim submission, that will be my ONE-HUNDREDTH article for an Ohev newsletter!! Hard to believe, isn’t it? I wrote 29 articles for what-we-used-to-call The Honey Jar, and next month will be #71 in L’Chaim. Add that to my recent milestone of writing my 500^th blog post, and clearly something is going on. Well, you all know my math skills are quite paltry, but even I figured this one out.

The answer is, in just a few, short weeks, I will have been your rabbi for an entire decade! Wow. And you thought the 100^th article thing (above) was difficult to fathom!! I’m very excited to celebrate this wonderful milestone with all of you, and I’m both thankful and awed that we, somehow, found one another at just the right moment – when Ohev needed a new rabbi and a change in direction, and I was looking for a congregation just like this one. It truly was “bashert” (meant to be)…

I will also point out that the timing is particularly fortuitous, because Ohev is about to celebrate an incredible achievement as well; its Centennial Year! Our *actual* Ohev Shalom history book (which I love!) includes the following note: “By now, B’nai Israel was no longer the only Jewish congregation in Chester. Congregation B’nai Aaron received a charter from the Court of Common Please of Delaware County on April 15, 1915. In 1920, however, the two congregations merged and on March 29 of that year the court again granted a charter, this time to Congregation Ohev Sholom [sic], which name means “Lover of Peace.”

I think it’s fantastic that my second decade and Ohev’s second century begin together. That too feels like bashert. We have a fabulous team of volunteers – spearheaded by past-presidents Bruce Godick and Frances Sheehan – who are planning an incredible year of Centennial Celebrations. We’re all gonna party like it’s 1919! 😊 And while I genuinely look forward to all the events that await us, I also want to share with you my own personal agenda and hope for our next era together.

What do we actually KNOW about our history? How can we celebrate, if we don’t fully understand where we came from, how we got here, or the challenges we had to overcome? I firmly believe that we will enter the next century primed for success and prosperity… only if we first delve deeply and earnestly into our past. We need to explore the stories of Chester, of the Conservative Movement in America, and our own community’s legacy. THEN we can really build to new heights and greater strength!

One quick programmatic note related to this: On Wednesday, May 8^th, our Wednesday morning Bible class is taking its annual field trip! This year, we are visiting the Delaware County Historical Society, located in downtown Chester. We will learn about the community that allowed our ancestors to arrive and thrive a century ago… as well as uncover some of the obstacles and hardships that befell them. The Joseph and Edith Godick Jewish History Fund is making this trip possible, and anyone in the congregation is welcome to attend – even if you’re not a Bible class attendee!

We have much to celebrate. Our community today is strong, and our future feels exciting and hopeful. Let’s spend the year ahead really honoring our history; understanding and grappling with all that came before, and embracing everything that made us who we are today. Then we’ll be ready for anything that lies ahead. I can’t wait to experience it all with you! L’Chaim – To Life! – indeed.

Sincerely,

Rabbi Gerber

L'Chaim (newsletter) article, April, 2019 - Memory As a Survival Technique

Well, we made it to April, and a change in season is upon us! The current Jewish year, 5779, included a leap month, which pushed all the holidays later than usual. Even so, Pesach is around the corner, and I’ve got Seders on the brain… And I know they can be overwhelming,  formal, chaotic, stressful, endless, and droning. Or, if you’re REALLY unlucky, all of the above. I’d like to offer a brief intention, a kavannah, for the holiday, but then also transition to talking about something entirely different. (But related, I promise!)

You can actually boil the entire Seder into a single sentence, believe it or not. It’s one you might not even spend too much time on at your own Seder table, but I wish more people would dwell on it a bit longer. In the “Maggid” section of the Haggadah, after we’ve reviewed all the 4s and the 10s (children, questions, cups, plagues, etc.), most books include some version of the following sentence: “In every generation, each person is obligated to view him/herself as if s/he left Egypt.” To me, this is the epicenter of the holiday. It’s not an ancient tale of a mythical drama that our ancestors experienced. We put ourselves INTO this story! All of us! And anything you can do to help the story come alive at your Seder table is terrific, and HIGHLY encouraged.

More than just being the focal point of Pesach, this concept is truly the secret to the longevity of our Jewish people. Keeping our history with us, but also seeing ourselves and our own stories as VITAL to that history, that has kept us alive! We cannot forget or dismiss what came before… but it needs constant updating to remain relevant and meaningful. Both values must be held in balance at all times. So what does that look like?

Here’s where I want to make a sharp pivot. How do we, as Jews, remember? I believe we have to start with personal, family memories. Many of us know that there’s a service on Yom Kippur that’s all about memory, called Yizkor. We sing psalms together, recall loved ones, and stand in silence for individual prayers. But the Yizkor service ACTUALLY occurs three more times every year! The three pilgrimage festivals – Shavuot, Sukkot, and yes, Pesach – all include a Yizkor service just like the one we chant on Yom Kippur. I wonder if more people might attend, if they only knew it was taking place? Please let me know if you’d like more info.

There is also a tradition of remembering a special deceased relative on the annual date of their death, called Yahrzeit. Many who observe a Yahrzeit will light a memorial candle (we have them in the Ohev office), perhaps make a donation in memory of the person to a charity that was meaningful to them, and then also come to a morning minyan to recite the Mourner’s Kaddish. Again, I don’t know how many people are aware of this custom. If you come for minyan on a day when we read Torah, I can also recite a special prayer of commemoration, called the Eil Malei Rachamim. If you’ve never experimented with this ritual, I encourage you to try it. It can be very meaningful and spiritual. It connects you to your personal heritage, while also grounding you in the life of your community.

As Jews, we remember. It is a source of tremendous strength and power for us. It is the heart of our Passover celebration, where we don’t just recall what was, but we link it to our own lives and our own experiences in a very profound way. I invite you to think about this mitzvah as you prepare for your Seder. And I also encourage you to consider bringing memory into other parts of your life, including the Yizkor and Yahrzeit traditions.

Many people simply don’t know that these traditions and rituals exist. I hope that this article will inspire you to learn more, come to a service, and find a new way to remember a deceased family member. Don’t forget!

Sincerely,

Rabbi Gerber