“It’s easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission.”
Happy New Year!
From the Rabbi’s Virtual Desk - There Must Be 50 Ways to Give Tzedakah.
You can give a dollar bill, Jill. Or use a credit card, Bernard. Click on a website, Dwight. Send a check in the mail, Gail.
Ok, I think you get my point. We all know it is important to give tzedakah. But how much do we know about the challenges and barriers to RECEIVING it? Our Biblical and medieval ancestors all spoke about the inherent tensions in dealing with charitable behavior, and I think now is as good a time as any to review some basic principles.
The Rambam (A.k.a. Moses Maimonides, 12th Century Spain & Egypt) actually wrote out a hierarchy of giving. At the lower end, it begins with giving begrudgingly in a public setting, which is NOT great… but still counts as tzedakah. Then the Rambam identifies a whole series of categories that factor in embarrassment. If the giver and the recipient know one another, that’s ok, but it CAN create embarrassment and shame. If the giver knows, but not the receiver, or vice versa, or neither, these are various levels of giving, according to the Rambam. And at the top of his list is teaching another a trade, or in some other way empowering others to assist themselves.
This all seems theoretical, or just a nice set of guidelines to keep in mind. But right now, there is more than enough hardship and economic insecurity to go around. Many people may be on the receiving end of kindness, who never expected to find themselves there. A lot of individuals and families struggle with the shame, stigma, and self-reproach that may come with financial woes. I understand these concerns. The emotions are real… but so are the repercussions of a VERY scary economic downturn.
Please remember that Ohev Shalom is here for you, for us all. We have funds and resources that we are able - and honored - to distribute; without judgment or guilt. I know it can be challenging to ask for help, and sometimes we literally do not know how to do so. I am writing this message, right now, to tell you that ALL the stages along Rambam’s ladder of tzedakah matter. You don’t need to evaluate whether someone else’s potential need may or may not be greater than yours. Please reach out if you need help. Or if you know someone else who might, we want to know that as well.
I cannot instruct or command you NOT to feel shame. It’s an awkward topic, plain and simple. The needs, however, are real, and so is the pain. If there are 50+ ways to GIVE tzedakah, there are surely 50 - or more - ways to receive it. All are legitimate, all are welcome, and all those needs are seen. No need to be coy, boy (or girl).
Sincerely,
Rabbi Gerber
Around the synagogue, you'll sometimes hear me say, "Why ruin a perfectly good question... by trying to answer it." I use that a lot in my Bible class, it makes its way into sermons and discussions on Shabbat, and surprisingly, I find myself saying it in other contexts as well. So what does it mean? Well, pretty
much exactly what it sounds like. To me, questions are MUCH more interesting than answers. Questions make you think, make you wonder; they may even open your eyes to new possibilities, new avenues of consideration. Answers end discussions. They produce finality: "Ah, now I get it. Oh well. Let's move on to something else." Questions force you to stay, to grapple, to ponder. And sometimes I really don't want to lose that wonderful wrestling match, that delicious enigma, by trying to offer a simple and conclusive answer. Exhibit A: Our Torah portion this week tells a lengthy story about Abraham's servant, but NEVER gives the guy a name. In fact, it goes out of its way NOT to name him, even though he is clearly the protagonist in our story. Why? Ok, I'll tell you why. Here's the answer:
Nope! Fooled you. No answer here. Come on, people! What did I JUST finish saying?!? Now, mind you, there is no shortage of OTHER Torah commentators who will answer this question for you. They will tell you
that his name is Eliezer, because we see elsewhere in Genesis that Abraham had a servant by that name. They will tell you that it isn't necessary, because it's assumed. Or maybe it's irrelevant. But I purposely don't want to turn to such easy, simple, straight-forward answers. Let us, for just a few moments, sit with the discomfort of simply not knowing. I feel we MUST stop and acknowledge that the text of the Torah purposely creates awkward sentences, bends over backwards, and goes out of its way to leave this servant unnamed. Why would we ruin that by simply calling him "Eliezer," or shrugging our shoulders and saying "Who cares?" I care. And, if you're still reading this, I suppose you do as well.
I imagine - though I'm not certainly not positing a conclusive answer - that the Torah text is trying to deemphasize his role in this saga. The servant is an instrument, a tool,
a vehicle for delivering a message from God. Abraham sends him to find a wife for his son, Isaac, and God directs his path. Perhaps if we named him, we would also want to give him credit for his incredibly successful mission? And the text is trying to suggest this was all pre-ordained. Rebecca was destined to marry Isaac, she just needed to be located, be made aware of her fate, and be brought to her intended... and "Someone" made all that happen. P.s. it's God, NOT the human in the story...
But this all could have happened in many, many other ways. Why the need for an anonymous character, and why be so EMPHATIC about his anonymity? Again, I don't want to answer this question. I want us all to consider it, to ruminate on it. Are you and I 'the servant'? Should we be
viewing ourselves as vehicles of God, working to make the world a better place on behalf of the Almighty? Is it meant to remind us of the Unseen Hand of God that permeates all our lives? Or at the very least, all the stories of the Bible? Perhaps we can read this as telling us to look for God in unexpected places, to see the Divine in the people around us, because anyone and everyone COULD be a Messenger of God. They just don't know it themselves. Maybe. Or maybe you have your own suggestion, and perhaps you can share it with me? Just remember, we aren't looking for The Answer. We aren't searching for solutions. That would ruin this perfectly wonderful question. And I know that would make our friend, the servant, "Eliezer" very unhappy.
Photos in this blog post:
1. CC image courtesy of Martorell on Wikimedia Commons
2. CC image courtesy of File Upload Bot (99of9) on Wikimedia Commons
3. CC image courtesy of Unipro on Wikimedia Commons
4. CC image courtesy of Dellex on Wikimedia Commons
Ohev Shalom Ark Curtain and Table Cover
Introduction
In 2016, our congregation completed a large mosaic art project in the Main Sanctuary. The side walls of this cavernous prayer space now feature mosaic panels, each representing one of the ancient Twelve Tribes of Israel. Two additional panels were also crafted, one symbolizing the Levitical priests that served in the Temple in Jerusalem, and one in honor of our patriarch, Jacob’s lone daughter, Dina. But something was missing.
In the Bible, Jacob allots a double-portion to one of his children, Joseph. Joseph’s two sons, Ephraim and Menashe, thus each become tribes of Israel, yet as a result, Joseph’s name doesn’t endure among the Israelite clans! Worse still, Joseph was not included in our mosaic project. Furthermore, our Main Sanctuary Ark curtain, a solid grey color, no longer matched the vivid, evocative imagery of the room. A change was needed.
Three years later, a well-known artist, Siona Benjamin, came to Ohev Shalom for a weekend-long artist-in-residence program. Towards the end of the weekend, Rabbi Gerber and Ms. Benjamin began discussing the possibility of a collaboration on an art installation that would add color to the Ark, finally bring Joseph into our “visual story,” and also leave the impression of Siona Benjamin’s incredible artistry on our congregation.
In September, 2020, just before the Jewish High Holidays, a new Ark curtain was installed, together with a table cover for the central prayer table; both crafted by Siona Benjamin. The following is a description of some of the imagery and symbolism captured within each of these two phenomenal new ritual objects (as told by Rabbi Gerber):
Ark Curtain (Parochet)
To begin with, Siona and I focused on the Biblical character of Joseph. A well-known image associated with him is the coat of many colors, gifted to him by his father, Jacob (Gen. 37:3). I liked using this as the main depiction, due to its many layers of meaning: It represents Joseph’s youth, the love of his father, but also the bitter jealousy of his brothers, and the very object that those same siblings would bring back to Jacob (drenched in lamb’s blood) to falsely claim he had been killed. Later, when Joseph became the grand-vizier of Egypt, he would again be wearing beautifully adorned clothing, this time, however, infused with genuine power… yet also deeper humility and wisdom after all he had been through.
Joseph himself is a complex character, first immature, bratty, and also naive, while later clever and plotting, yet benevolent. To represent this, the Ark curtain is a layered image. The outline is a coat, but then a tree is hiding within it, and a cup is hidden inside that, a bird lurks deeper still, and various other veiled symbols are embedded even further.
Here are some of the images specifically related to Joseph’s story:
The goblet inside the coat represents two important cups in Joseph’s life. First, he interprets a dream for Pharaoh’s cupbearer (chapter 40), who then eventually remembers Joseph’s assistance and tells Pharaoh. Later, when Joseph forms an elaborate plan to punish his brothers (or perhaps test their loyalty…), he hides his own chalice in his brother, Benjamin’s bag (44:2), in order to ensnare them. Both vessels changed the course of Joseph’s life.
Along the top of the Ark curtain are the sun, the moon, and eleven stars. These represent Joseph’s dream in his youth, about how his parents and brothers would one day bow down to him (37:9).
Hidden throughout the curtain are seven ears of grain and seven spectral cows, harkening back to Pharaoh’s “uninterpretable” dreams (41:2-7).
In addition, there are symbols representing God and Torah writ large:
The Hebrew letter “shin” - ש - is often used to represent God (through one of God’s names “Shaddai”), e.g. on the tefillin and on the mezuzah. In the rays of the sun on the curtain one might notice several instances of the letter shin. Additional shins emanate from the tree inside the coat as well. This symbolizes God’s Presence, sometimes evident and discernible, other times imperceptible and ephemeral.
The budding tree is a symbol of our Torah, as described in Proverbs, 3:18: “It is a tree of life to all who grasp onto it.” In Siona Benjamin’s stunning depiction, the tree sprouts beyond the bounds of the coat, even though it is meant to be part of its “design.” This symbolizes how the teachings of our Tradition cannot stay on the page, but rather insist on “breaking out” of their bounds, to impact our lives and our world… even to this day.
There is also a Star of David in the lower left corner, but it appears, perhaps, to be spinning and radiating color! This is meant to evoke an ancient rabbinic teaching from Pirkei Avot, the Ethics of Our Ancestors: “Turn it and turn it, for everything is in it” (5:22). This is a reminder that, whether it be art or religion, its potential for interpretation and meaning-making is limitless!
The Torah is also sometimes depicted as water, nourishing and refreshing us. Water features prominently on the Ark curtain, both with the flowing waves along the bottom (a signature of Siona Benjamin’s beautiful artwork), as well as the cascading waterfall behind the tree. The colors of the waterfall may also evoke the stripes of a tallit.
Just above the spinning star, one can also spot a bird’s head, peeking out from behind the tree. The bird is holding an olive branch, which is both a well-known symbol of peace, and a nod to the name of our beloved congregation, Ohev Shalom, “Lover of Peace.”
Table (Amud) Cover
Accompanying the Ark curtain is a new cover for our reader’s table, also called the Amud. This cover features two distinct sides; one visible to anyone standing and looking out at the congregation, and a second one, displayed for the congregation to enjoy from the pews. Each side has meaning, and each is also connected back to the Ark curtain:
Table Side:
When standing at the Amud, one looks down at branches sprouting out from a central point. These are meant to be extensions of the branches from the Ark curtain, as if to say that the Teaching found within the Ark extends out to the table, and then spreads yet further out to the congregation. It is also important to note that the observer is standing between the two artistic renderings; a reminder that we, the congregants, are a necessary partner in the dissemination of our heritage. Without us, it cannot emerge from the Ark or be read from the table!
The branches of the tree on the Amud grow out into seven distinct “buds” that are also flames. Indeed, these shoots form a Menorah. The Menorah is an important Jewish ritual object and symbol. In addition, this same combination of tree/candelabra already existed in Ohev’s Main Sanctuary, in the form of a sculpture from the 1960s. The table cover thus offers an homage to Ohev Shalom’s vibrant history.
Interestingly, when I shared these descriptions on Facebook, a clergy colleague of mine pointed out how the tree/Menorah combo, at least in this particular instance, also greatly resembles the Burning Bush (Exodus 3:2)! As one of the Torah’s first tangible symbols of God’s Presence, it is wonderfully fitting to depict this on our Reader’s Table… and I love that new interpretations are already emerging.
Painted water drops “trickle down” along the table cover, further representing how our Torah sustains us. In the center of this sprinkling, one can also see the word “Mayim” (מיים), which is the Hebrew word for “water.” It is, however, misspelled… sort of. Mayim is more often spelled with just one “yud” (מים). Using two “yud’s” adds two important Midrashim (commentary/interpretations): It now resembles the word “Chayim” (חיים), meaning “life,” reminding us yet again of the eternal value of our heritage, and also the enduring spirit of the Jewish people. Second, in numerology, the letters of “Mayim” using this spelling produce the number 100 (40+10+10+40), meant as a celebration of Ohev Shalom’s Centennial, during which these objects were dedicated.
One final note: Behind the branches of the Menorah, one can see the same shadings of deep blue and bright yellow, paralleling the colors behind the coat on the curtain.
Congregation Side:
The image facing the congregation continues the theme of the rippling waves from the Ark curtain. It is also the end-point of the drops of water that began in the curtain’s waterfall, then “splashed” onto the table cover, and now “spill” down further still. However, it is actually not an ending at all! The edge of the cloth has beautiful beads hanging down, as if to depict the drops of water emerging from the textile and become three-dimensional. Like the tree on the Ark curtain, this symbolizes how our heritage cannot remain on the parchment or in a book; it needs to pour forth, and water our day-to-day lives as well.
The central image on this side of the artwork is a blue lotus flower. It may evoke a connection to the Ner Tamid, the Eternal Light, located in a straight line above/behind the table. The light of the Ner Tamid, in a sense, becomes a flower that opens up and spreads beauty and joy all around. The lotus is also a representation of our incredible artist, Siona Benjamin, and her heritage as an Indian Jew. Despite growing up Jewish, she sometimes felt excluded from the “normative” Jewish community, especially in America. It reminds us of the centrality of diversity, unity, openness, and inclusion. All are welcome here, and all are part of our community!
(Updated 09-16-20)
CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. pixabay
2. Martin Rulsch on Wikimedia Commons
3. Mark Moz on Flickr
4. needpix.com
Do you know what people DON’T want to talk about on Yom Kippur? Food. Drink. Everyone has that ONE friend or family member - or maybe YOU’RE that person - who insists on talking about their favorite foods, or perhaps more specifically what they plan on eating to break the fast. I know that the fasting is NOT the easiest part. And I certainly can agree that if the rabbis had allowed drinking - even just water - would that have been SO bad?
I also sometimes hear from people who say that it’s confusing why we fast. Are we mourning? Is this a sad fast? To which the answer is, no. We have sad observances also, and unfortunately, our Jewish history has warranted the institutions of new fasts or more reasons to abstain from food, from time to time. Fasting is indeed a way that we express communal grief and sadness. But Yom Kippur is not a sad day. Then, when I proceed to explain that today is about intentionality, focus, setting aside material needs to really commit ourselves to the introspective work of self-examination, asking and accepting forgiveness, and striving to be better in the year ahead… I get confused looks. Inevitably, someone will say (and I imagine they are expressing the sentiments of countless others): “I think I could focus better if I wasn’t so hungry.”
I get it. I FEEL it. Headaches, fatigue, discomfort, dry mouth, irritability; all the signs of hunger and thirst. I GET IT, OK??? STOP NAGGING ME!!! Sorry, just a little grouchy this evening; I apologize… But here’s the thing; if you had food, if you had water or juice, if you could soothe all these uncomfortable, annoying feelings right now… wouldn’t you be sooo tempted to just go back to regular life? To talk about the weather, the Phillies, the Eagles, the election, our families, and aaaaaaall the other things that take up everyday life. When you feel this hunger and fatigue… you almost CAN’T focus on anything else. The very thing that we spend Yom Kippur grumbling and complaining about IS the thing that keeps us present to the day.
And related to that, I also want to say that our culture is often one of instant-gratification, or - if we’re feeling generous and bountiful - we’re willing to accept a SLIGHT delay in our gratification. Just enough for that food order to arrive from GrubHub or DoorDash or UberEats. The truth is, we do NOT like to sit in uncomfortable emotions. And believe you me, this sermon - perhaps more than any others I’ve delivered these High Holidays - is being preached inward as well as outward. It is HARD to stay in the emotions of fear, anger, loneliness, frustration, sadness, embarrassment, and shame. Every fiber of our being may be screaming “RESOLVE THIS!!! For God’s Sake, someone tell a joke or play a happy song or bring me my takeout order! This. Is. Unbearable.”
Even just silence is sometimes hard to bear. When we have shiva services over zoom, I open up the floor to allow people to speak about the deceased. And sometimes no one wants to unmute and grab that microphone. 10 seconds of silence, with all of us just staring at one another, can feel like an absolute ETERNITY! And it’s happened a couple times throughout these holiday services as well.
If, however, we are serious about working on ourselves, on being better in the year to come, and genuinely wanting to be a healthier, more harmonious person emotionally, spiritually, mentally, and physically, we need to shift our goal. This is hard to do. This takes a lot of work. Luckily we still have another hour and a half in which to work on this... oh yeah, AND then we have opportunities into Sukkot… I guess then also New Year’s Resolutions we can make on January 1st, and then other opportunities to improve before we get to next Rosh Hashanah and start this all over again. We DO get more chances; the gate is not closing on God’s end. But maybe we’re all selling ourselves short? Closing the gate, and blocking ourselves from being more present, whole, and harmonious? Why are we willing to be unhappy, maladjusted, uncomfortable, and not-whole, when there IS an alternative? When we reject the chance to improve, to make our lives and indeed the whole world a better place, we are closing the gates on ourselves. No one is slamming it in our faces… we are.
So if we want to stop hurting ourselves, we need to shift our goal. The objective is NOT to avoid feeling sad, unhappy, angry, offended, or ashamed. Those are human emotions, and we are MEANT to feel them like all the other ones. Yom Kippur is saying “Don’t eat your problems away. Don’t drink them away - with a stiff drink or a soft one - don’t self-medicate them away in the myriad ways that we all create coping mechanisms so as NOT to work on these issues. Just Be. Even when you’re feeling sad and alone; Just Be.
Throughout Yom Kippur, I’ve referenced the Still, Small Voice, the Kol Demama Daka, that we are meant to listen to. The voice of God, the voice of morality, the sound of kindness and compassion that is appealing to us at all times. But there is also a Kol Demama Daka inside each of us. Sometimes we’re too stressed, too busy, too preoccupied with family and friends, with games on our phones or scrolling through Social Media. Life. Is. Hectic. It is full of distractions and to-do lists of things that genuinely have to be done. And take up our time, energy, resources, and money. And yet, the Kol Demama Daka IS still there. There is always a voice telling us we COULD be more harmonious, more purposeful, kinder, more connected. Sometimes it’s just really, really faint. It’s hard to hear it, especially when we’re chewing, sipping, driving, exercising, scrolling, chatting, fixing, zooming. It can be so, so hard to hear it…
Hillel the Elder once wrote in Pirkei Avot, the Ethics of Our Ancestors: “Do not say, ‘when I have leisure time I will study,’ for perhaps you will never have leisure time!” Or, as John Lennon is erroneously credited for having written in his song “Beautiful Boy”: “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” (It was actually first attributed to a cartoonist, Allen Saunders, from 1957…) Either way, the points that Hillel and John-slash-Allen are making are one and the same: Do it NOW! There are a million reasons to wait, to postpone, to delay, to first get something to eat and drink - maybe some egg salad on a bagel, and a nice glass of cold apple juice - and THEN we’ll work on ourselves. Then we’ll take the time to study, to introspect, to consider, to delve, and to REALLY commit to making serious changes. But we don’t.
Is it really true that if we had something to eat and a glass of… whatever, that we would be more focused, attentive, awake… AND willing to spend time on this? No! We would want to move on to the next thing. Get ready for tomorrow’s to-do’s, plan next week, think about Halloween, the impending election, the environment. ALL these things would snap us back to reality. Oddly enough, the fasting DOES help us keep our own feet to the fire (at least, potentially…). It can force us to stay with ourselves, in that pew, in that chair in the corner of your dining room, facing that screen, thinking about what/how you want to change.
I wish I could invite you all to come and say a prayer before the open Ark. Our final service of Yom Kippur, called Neilah, is that most special of services where the Ark remains open for about an hour; the entire repetition of the Amidah. Many years ago, we began the tradition of inviting people to come up - whenever they’d like to - during this time to say a prayer of their own in front of the scrolls. Many synagogues do this; it has the potential to be quite powerful… Sadly, I can’t do that. But that also means we are all forced to remember that God is all around; God is no more here, in front of this particular (and suddenly much more colorful, vibrant, and beautiful) Ark, than any Ark in a shul anywhere in the world! It would be easy to use this as yet another excuse NOT to be present. “I would be focused, but I can’t approach the Ark.” Again, I get it.
There is a powerful reading in our Machzor that we won’t be doing out loud. It’s on page 3, at the very start of your prayer book. It’s called “Now is the Time for Turning.” And it would be easy to say “well ‘now’ could be anytime. Maybe it was actually last High Holidays, or last week, OR it’s coming up; in six months or 30 years into the future!” But “now” could also be… “now.” I can’t invite you to the Ark, I won’t be checking if you remain standing for Neilah, and I’ll never know if you used this time to listen for the Still, Small, Voice - the Kol Demama Daka - that is calling out to you,
because it is ALWAYS calling out to you. And I’m not going to read “Now is the Time for Turning” out loud. I simply invite you to all these things. I invite you to take this opportunity. To not worry about the egg salad and apple juice, to not make other plans, to not picture God somewhere else… ANYWHERE else. Be Here Now. Listen for the voice. Don’t close your gate. Be. Here. Now. (pg. 408)
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