Rabbi’s Corner (Congregation Beth El, Edison, NJ): Beha’alotecha - The Heavy Burden of Authority

Rabbi’s Corner: Beha’alotecha, 5785 - The Heavy Burden of Authority

Leadership is tough. It may seem exciting and make a person feel important, but once you take on that mantle, it very often ain't so easy at all! Public scrutiny, scant praise yet *ample* blame, and a good number of people who are certain they could do your job better than you can. I’m speaking, of course, from the perspective of our ancient Torah. Well, primarily anyway… This week's parashah shows us some of Moses' greatest leadership challenges throughout the Exodus. As usual, the people are complaining. This time the manna isn't enough for them - they want meat! In addition to all the “normal” kvetching, Moses loses one of his favorite and most-trusted advisers: his father-in-law, Jethro. He also has to endure some harsh scolding from God, and perhaps  worst of all, he faces a coup from his own siblings! The job is getting the best of Moses, and he feels compelled to ask God for help.

God acquiesces to Moses' request for some relief, and instructs him to pick 70 elders who will be imbued with the Divine spirit, and who will share the weary load of leadership. What follows is a fascinating scene where the elders are chosen and proceed to the Tent of Meeting, where God will somehow “slice” off part of Moses’ (seemingly quite tangible) link to God and divvy it out to the other newly-minted leaders. However, just as that’s about to take place, two elders - Eldad and Meidad - remain behind in the Israelite camp, yet appear to still be receiving this Calling from God. They start speaking in tongues, and Moses' advisers fear their unsanctioned acts, separated from the other elders, will somehow undermine Moses' authority. They beg him to stop these "rogue" elders, but Moses surprises them by declaring, "Are you jealous for my sake? I wish that all God's people were prophets and that Adonai would put God’s Spirit on them all!" Moses isn't looking for more control; he's looking for less, and he would happily give it all away in a heartbeat!

Now, I feel kind of bad criticizing Moses - after all, the guy has had a rough couple of years. However, to me the notion of every Israelite being a prophet, being a leader, is pretty frightening. It would yield a cacophony of people offering instructions, with none to listen or learn. Whether you like it or not, leadership is necessary. Without it, you're going to end up with anarchy and chaos. Someone needs to make decisions and be held accountable… and yes, also hear (and endure) the people's kvetching. Moses selfishly hopes to relinquish control, even though God clearly considers him the best person for the job. In our lives, we too must strive to figure out what our greatest potential is, and do everything we can to live up to it. Not everyone is meant to be a leader or a prophet, but we all have limitless potential.

The Talmud teaches us, "In a place where there is no leader, strive to be a leader." We should seek out opportunities to be at our best, chances to make the world a better place for the people around us. But what happens in a place where there already is a leader? There is still a role for us to play, and many ways we can help out and contribute. We can all be part of the larger collective, and make the whole system function better for everyone by adding our own, unique skills. One of the reasons the Israelites struggled so much throughout their time in the desert was because Moses never became fully comfortable in his role. He always wished someone *else* could have stepped up and relieved him of his heavy burden. Sometimes we don't get to choose where life will take us, but we can always affect our own lives, and make the most of every situation. Don't wait for the "Spirit of God" to come down and anoint you a leader. Follow instead those most wonderful words of Mahatma Gandhi: "Be the change you wish to see in the world."

Shemini: Redefining “Kosher”

This week, we read a lot of the basic laws for Kosher and non-Kosher animals, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to delve into this topic for a bit. Let’s start off with a basic, yet complicated question: What does it mean to keep Kosher? You may respond by noting the rule against mixing meat (-based products) and dairy (-based products)... which could lead to talking about separate dishes in our homes or synagogues. Or perhaps you'd refer to the prohibition against pork or shellfish, or ANY meat that hasn’t been certified Kosher by a rabbinic certifying organization.  Notice how we've already started to veer into the minutia - right off the bat - and how we quickly become bogged down with questions of what's ok, who decides, and what method(s) do they use? We may further lose ourselves in questions of separate cutlery, Kosher restaurants, ethical practices in meat plants, Passover rules, Shabbat concerns, Kashering utensils, and on, and on, and on. But let’s try and bring it back to that original question: What does it mean to keep Kosher?

It is worth noting that the first humans created in the Torah were vegetarians, and that the overarching message of the Torah *seems to be* that we should all be herbivores too. Meat-eating is essentially an acquiescence to the more savage, carnal cravings in us as humans. Furthermore, the laws of Kashrut feel kind of arbitrary, with no explanations of "why": Mammals have to have split hooves and chew their cud. Ok... but why?? Anything in the seas needs fins and scales. Ok again... but still, why??? The fact that they’re seemingly random distinctions tells me something about Kashrut: The value is in HAVING laws governing food; not necessarily the specifics of WHAT those laws are. 

This is perhaps a bit controversial to say, but I think it’s primarily about having a “food ethic.” The rules of Kashrut are the guidelines for us as Jews, but they’re not objectively “the best laws imaginable.” Whoever we are, we DO need rules. If we don’t demand of ourselves that our eating should follow ethical parameters, we wind up with systems where the animals suffer, the people working in the food industry may be mistreated, and ultimately we all put ourselves at risk when our foods are poisoned with salmonella and e-coli. So maybe you don’t keep Kosher, or maybe *your* version of Kosher doesn’t match someone else’s standards, or you’ve got that one friend who loves to point out the hypocrisy in your self-imposed rules. (And don’t we all just LOVE that person’s attitude...) I think all of that is missing the point. 

Develop a food ethic. Or if you have one already, write it down. Be deliberate and intentional about it, and hold yourself accountable. If you simply like a certain product, but you know it is sourced through immoral means, or the company spews hateful rhetoric, I encourage you to examine your choices. "It tastes good" shouldn't be enough of an excuse to eat... well... anything. Perhaps even the word “Kosher” shouldn’t mean certified/Shabbat-observant/separated-meat-n-milk/no-pork... but rather, Kosher should mean ethical. The laws in the Torah - expanded upon by millennia of rabbis - are one version, and some aspects are there to challenge us to be kinder, more compassionate eaters. But it isn’t a perfect system, nor does it need to be. It just needs to be evolving, conscientious, vigilant, and above all else, moral. Kosher should mean “food ethic.” So... do YOU keep Kosher? You don’t have to answer *me*, but you probably SHOULD answer this for yourself. 

CC images in this post, courtesy of:

1. Mike Mozart on Flickr

2. Marco Verch Professional Photographer on Flickr

3. path0s on Pixabay

4. LuisRaa on Flickr

Shemini: A Kosher Scroll, Waiting For Its Big Moment

Shabbat Shalom, everyone. I want to share with you a thought and a recent memory, not so much related to this week’s Torah portion, but to what WOULD HAVE been happening at Ohev Shalom this Shabbat. Many of you already knew this, but tomorrow morning, Saturday's service was going to be our annual Lostice Shabbat. This is the day we acknowledge and celebrate a Torah scroll that is in our ark, which is over 200 years old and survived the horrors of the Holocaust, despite the destruction of its home in the small town of Lostice, in Czechoslovakia. This year was going to be a most SPECIAL occasion, because we were recently able to have the entire scroll corrected, so that it is once again "Kosher," meaning usable for Torah reading in services. The Lostice Torah hasn't been used since World War II. It sat for two decades in a warehouse in Prague, followed by another decade-plus in storage in London, then it spent 40 years at Ohev Shalom, waiting to become Kosher once again. But, like everything else these days, the coronavirus dashed our plans.

Of course, we are disappointed. Well-over a hundred congregants came over two Sundays to hold the Sofer, the scribe's hand and thereby "write" a letter and fulfill the 613th commandment of the Torah. We've talked about it for years. We've learned about Lostice and taken on their story as our own. We've said their prayers; we've chanted Kaddish in their memory. This IS disappointing. And yet, I feel this is also a vital metaphor for our lives in quarantine right now, in another most powerful and crucial way. Some things simply do not die. The virus may postpone our plans, and we are genuinely afraid for our lives, our health, and our financial well-being at this time. But we WILL emerge on the other side. Community, ritual, tradition, and memory; these are immortal concepts, and the Lostice Torah embodies these. The correcting has been done. It IS a Kosher scroll. So even while we are disappointed, and won't be chanting from it this weekend, it is only a matter of time before we "leyn" from it again. Even in our disappointment; we can indeed be patient.

And now, my memory: Another group that is pretty disappointed right now is my Adult Bat Mitzvah class. Their celebration wasn't taking place until May 2nd, and will now be held as a Zoom service, but they were also hoping to take the Lostice Scroll out of the ark and include it in our celebration. And now, we cannot. But in those last couple of weeks before COVID-19 separated us all from one another, our Bat Mitzvah class was practicing reading Torah in the Main Sanctuary. And everyone got a chance to do their aliyah from the Lostice Scroll. Even in an empty sanctuary, during a "dry run," it was meaningful to everyone to read from it. Standing on that bimah, crowded together around the Lostice Torah with these amazing women, I didn't just feel THEIR excitement about the Bat Mitzvah and reading from this scroll... I felt ITS excitement too.

I know that sounds ridiculous. The Lostice Scroll doesn't feel emotion, and certainly doesn't express them to me. But nevertheless, I stood there, holding one of its rollers, with a whole group of Jews preparing to chant from this FULLY-Kosher scroll - possibly for the first time in 70 years, and who knows how much longer since it was last checked, cleaned, and corrected?? Someone tried to destroy it once. Someone else neglected it in Prague, then someone else tried to triage its wounds in London, and someone else gave it a place of honor - but isolation - at Ohev. I felt SOMETHING that night. The excitement and sheer joy of a scroll that only ever wanted to be read from, to be holy again. To have people crowd around it, hold its rollers, point (gently...) into it with a yad, and read aloud its ancient text. So yeah, we ALL are disappointed it won't happen tomorrow morning. But you know what? It has waited 70 years for this moment, and even the Lostice Scroll can be a little more patient. Quarantine or no quarantine; it - and we - are still Kosher and eager to get back to celebrating our traditions!

Shabbat Shalom

Shemini (Shabbat Parah): FOUR Questions??? That's Just the Warmup Act...

Jews ask questions. I might even say it's bound up in our very DNA, that our name as a people - Yisrael, meaning "one who wrestles with God" - is a call to push back,

to grapple with, to challenge, and yes, to question God repeatedly. The Torah begins with Adam and Eve instantly challenging God's only rule in the Garden of Eden, against eating the fruit of a particular tree, and the Five Books of Moses end with a question as well. Moses' final utterance (before the text tells us he died and God buried him) includes the question "Mi Kamocha," "Who is like you?" (Deut. 33:29), spoken about Israel, the people, and its unique relationship with the Divine. So yeah, Jews ask questions. From philosophers, theologians, politicians, and prophets... to doctors, lawyers, community organizers, rabbis, and even comedians, it is perhaps one of THE central traits that has defined us. And in just a few weeks, we'll be asking four special questions at our Passover Seder tables.

There is an odd irony regarding those Four Questions, however, because they are not supposed to be the *only* questions at the Seder. I believe they should be the FIRST questions asked, but they are just meant to get us started. They are the warm-up to get our curiosities going.... The Seder

contains endless peculiarities, hidden clues, provocative statements, and other pedagogical tools; all designed to get the people around the table to ASK. MORE. QUESTIONS. Because, if you think about it, a question draws you into relationship. An answer, by contrast, closes the discussion and you move on to something else, while more questions pull you further and further into dialogue, back and forth, deepening and enhancing the exchange. I love to say to my congregation: Why would you ruin a perfectly wonderful question... by trying to answer it??? So let me invite you to think about two more essential questions, in this season leading up to the Passover Seder:

First, what does it mean to have a food ethic? Pesach is defined by its excess of dietary restrictions, which seems like another peculiar irony, since we call this The Season of Our Freedom. Freedom?? Yeah, right; season to eat cardboard and horseradish, you mean... :-) This week's Torah portion, Shemini, challenges us

to think about our eating habits, much like Pesach does. We read many of the fundamental rules of keeping Kosher, including which animals we are permitted to eat and which ones are treif. There are four categories of creature (there's that number four again...) discussed in the text. Land animals, flying animals, sea creatures, and yes, swarming insects (mmmm, locusts...). But really, the text gives us more *questions* than answers. The distinguishing features seem arbitrary and have nothing to do with cleanliness or morality. Furthermore, some animals defy categorization or exhibit traits that confuse us, and many of the laws are simply not detailed enough. To make them into usable, ritualized, comprehensible mitzvot, more questions need to be asked (meaning more relationship-building...), and a lot of the specifics will need to be "fleshed" out (haha!).

Question-asking is good. Not only does it help you understand more, but it opens you up to forming bonds, caring more about something, and bringing more of yourself to the table. Soooo, here's my final question for you: What don't you (yet) know about Judaism? What are the burning

questions you've never gotten to ask? In preparation for a Sisterhood event I'm leading on April 28th, I'm looking for help to explore the topic of "Jewish Fact; Jewish Fiction." There is a lot of misinformation out there, so I'm wondering what you've always *known* to be true about Jews... that might actually be patently false!! Or at least just "sorta-kinda" correct... Put your question in the "Comments" section, send it to me by e-mail, post it on Facebook, or stop me in the hallway. The most important thing to remember is: Questions are GOOD! Regardless of how, and if, they can be answered. So get ready for the Passover Four Questions - because the Seder will be here before you know it... - but please don't forget they're supposed to be a spring board. The very, very START of a longer conversation. What else do you wanna know? How can you learn more? I'm curious to find out... aren't you?


CC images in this blog post courtesy of:
1. Max Pixel
2. cmswire.com
3. nightowl on Pixabay
4. Fortepan on Wikimedia Commons

Rosh Hashanah 5777 - Day 1 Sermon

As I've done in previous years, I am posting my High Holiday sermons here on the blog. If you're planning on joining us for Yom Kippur, here's your chance to catch up on this year's holiday theme. If you heard it, but can't remember what I said, I guess this is kind of like a transcript! :-) Or maybe you're just curious to know what I spoke about. The only other thing I'll say, by way of introduction, is that our synagogue president, Rich Kaplan, had just finished telling the community that I had re-signed with Ohev Shalom for another seven year contract! That should help explain my first sentence... (And please feel free to post reactions/thoughts/comments on the sermon. Thanks!)

Rosh Hashanah 5777, Day One, D’var Torah

Shanah Tovah!
       Well, now you know; you’re stuck with me. We have seven more years together, fifteen in total, and who knows where we’ll go from there. It’s hard to believe. But I want to tell you honestly, from the heart, how thrilled Rebecca and I – and now Caroline and Max – are to be a part of this community. You have done so much for us, and you are such a central and crucial part of our lives, that we really did not hesitate for a moment to re-sign with Ohev Shalom. I want to especially thank Rich Kaplan for your leadership, support, and friendship, together with our three terrific VPs, Amy, Joel, and David, and a special thanks to Matt Tashman and David Pollack, who negotiated the contract with me, and who made the whole process feel like three friends sitting down and trying to work together as a team to make this happen. I feel really, really blessed.
I do think, however, that this whole thing surprises some people. From time to time, I hear from congregants – usually second- or third-hand – that there’s speculation about when I’ll leave, not if. I don’t believe they WANT me to go, but the assumption is that, obviously, Rebecca and I want something else. Eventually we must want an enormous congregation, a big city, a broader reach; it’s only a matter of time, right? Well, I hope we’ve laid some, if not most, of that to rest, at least for the next seven-plus years. We are home.
I want to take a moment and explore with you the assumption that people were making. “We must want more.” Doesn’t everyone? More, bigger, faster, greater… I don’t know. Do we? Is that the ideal? Our ancient rabbis, in a book entitled “The Ethics of Our Fathers,” “Pirkei Avot,” wrote, “Eizehu Ashir? Ha-sameiach b’Chelko?” “Who is wealthy? One who is happy with his or her portion.” It sounds SO simple. “Just be content with what you’ve got.” Well, you and I know, that’s HARD to do! It’s difficult to allow ourselves to be happy, content, satisfied with what we have. Sometimes (often), we DO want more, we want bigger… we want perfection. Otherwise we’re lazy, right? We need always be striving, reaching, and challenging ourselves, or else we’re just slackers.
My High Holiday theme, the focal word of which I am about to unveil to you in another minute, centers on “Good Enough.” Which I’m sure at least some of you hear as me saying we should settle. “Good Enough” sounds like a cop out, a giving up. But that is NOT the message I want to convey. “Good Enough” can be GOOD. Just “good.” We come here on the High Holidays and we talk about repentance, but I’m not sure any of us REALLY know what we’re repenting for, or what we’re repenting TO! We sometimes feel we need to apologize for not being perfect. Let me save you the suspense; we are not perfect. None of us. And after Yom Kippur is over, we STILL won’t be perfect.
We need to find that balance where we’re challenging ourselves to do a little better, while still accepting our imperfect, broken, flawed, Good Enough-selves. But it might surprise you to hear how my theme word for this year reflects that value.
This High Holiday season, I want to talk to you about the Hebrew word, “Kavod.” We usually translate “Kavod” as “honor” or “respect.” It is also commonly used to mean “glory,” as in the famous phrases from our Siddur, “Baruch Sheim KEVOD Malchuto l’Olam va’Ed,” or “Baruch KEVOD Adonai mi’Mekomo.” These well-known lines tell us that the KAVOD of God, or of God’s Name, fills the earth, it radiates all around us. We are indeed talking about God’s tremendous Glory, or the respect and honor we show to God. (Pause) Soooo, how can this be my key word for a sermon theme on “Good Enough”? How do respect, honor, and glory relate to being content and satisfied? That is a great question… and I’m going to ask you to hold onto it for just a little bit longer.
If you’ve been coming here for any of the last seven years, you may also know that I try to tie a metaphor to my theme as well. In the past, I’ve used Biblical quotes on a Sanctuary wall in England, ripples spreading outward across the surface of water, or pieces of a puzzle that come together to form an image – I believe, I hope, that my holiday theme-message AND the metaphor will come together to illustrate my point. (Pause) Let’s see if it works…
If you look up at the Sanctuary walls to the left and right, you see the beautiful mosaic panels of our newly dedicated Children of Israel Collection. A year ago, we had completed half the project, and now it is finally complete, and well over 120 of you participated in making these incredible pieces of art. But there is a problem with them. We call them the “Children of Israel,” and we say they reflect who we are, but only one in fourteen is a woman, Dinah. And they don’t reflect racial diversity, they don’t necessarily represent our religious diversity, as our community contains many, many interfaith families, and though we don’t KNOW this for sure, and can never know, they don’t overtly reflect a spectrum of sexual orientation or sexual identity either. I can’t fix all of that. Our Bible is a product of its time; but I want to name that challenge for us today, and dedicate my sermons this year to diversity in our community. I am seeking ways to make these panels represent all of us, either in what you see, or in what you DON’T see. That is my plan. I’ll admit, it isn’t perfect… but maybe it’s good enough.
You see, all the names on our walls were indeed children (or grandchildren) of our patriarch, Jacob, also known as Israel, so the name of our collection makes sense. But for each of my sermons this year I would also like to highlight one of our Jewish matriarchs. Let’s face it, it would have been hard for Jacob to produce even one of these kids all on his own! But I also don’t want to speak about our four “classic” matriarchs, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah.
I want to speak about the four women who birthed Jacob twelve sons and a daughter, namely Leah and Rachel, but also Bilhah and Zilpah. If you’ve never heard those last two names, I invite you to come back for more holiday services, and hopefully I can shed a little light on them for us all. By naming these four women, my intention is to acknowledge and honor more than just the male, Jewish, white, cisgendered names you see on these walls. Our history is deeper and more nuanced, and certainly our present and future is as well.
Today, I want to start my series on Kavod, and on Good Enough, by telling you about Leah, Jacob’s first wife. Hers is a pretty tragic story. Jacob wanted to marry her sister, Rachel, but their father, Laban, tricked Jacob into marrying Leah first, and made him work longer to earn Rachel’s hand as well. In a cruel twist of fate, Rachel couldn’t have any children, at least not at first, but Leah had no such trouble. Not only does she give birth to four sons in rapid succession, but the Torah tells us she named her sons herself, perhaps because Jacob didn’t care to take the time. And the names she chooses are SO painful for us to hear. She calls her first son, Reuven, meaning “now my husband will love me.” (Gen. 29:32) It cuts you right in the heart to hear such a thing. Simeon, her second son, was so named because, “Adonai has heard that I was unloved, and has given me this one as well.” (33) And Leah called her third son Levi, meaning: “This time my husband will become attached to me, for I have borne him three sons.” (34)
Her pain is unmistakable. Jacob can’t see her… except when he wants something. There is no honor in this relationship, no respect at all. And certainly, no glory.
But then, Leah grabs hold of her own fate. She doesn’t need him. She finds glory and honor elsewhere, in herself and in her children. Her fourth son, Judah, from whom we derive the term “Jew,” is given a name meaning: “This time I will praise Adonai.” (35) Our Etz Hayim Chumash writes in the commentary on this verse that, “Her heartfelt prayer of thanks reflects her having grown from self-concern and a focus on what she lacked to a genuine sense of appreciation for what was hers.” Is it a perfect scenario? No, of course not. We don’t get to choose all the factors in our lives. But when we honor ourselves, and we honor our own accomplishments and abilities, and the things for which we should be grateful, our lives are good. They are Good Enough.
So what do I mean when I say our theme this year is “Kavod”? Last year, we spoke about Ahavah, Love. Love is the peak, it is the ideal. We want to love ourselves, and love the people around us, and our community, and God, and, and, and. That all sounds terrific. I know. I said it… last year! But love is hard. Sometimes it is truly difficult – it can even feel impossible – to get there. One of the Ten Commandments, the one regarding our parents, says “HONOR [Kaved] your father and your mother.” From our same root word, Kavod. The rabbis jump all over this. Why not love!?! Why just “honor” your parents???
Because family relationships can be tough. Just look at this morning’s Torah reading, about Abraham, Sarah, Hagar, and their children. Relationships are so complex, so fraught with difficult emotions, you cannot always command yourself to love. Leah prayed fervently for God to command Jacob to love her. Life doesn’t always work that way. But we also don’t have to walk away, if we cannot reach that peak.
We aren’t limited to just two options, or at least we shouldn’t be. That’s why I’m talking to you here today. We don’t have to EITHER love with all our hearts, and souls, and might OR cut ties, burn bridges, and HATE The Other. And I’ll be speaking more about this throughout our holiday services together – about how we relate to our community, and Israel, and other people around us. In this Season of Repentance, I want to talk to you about four ways to find that middle road, to seek improvement, but without judgment. To strive for better, while also being kind and compassionate… and forgiving. And our matriarch this morning, Leah, reminds us that we need to take care of, and honor, ourselves.
Let me give you one more example of how you can do this. I am sure in each of our lives, there are many ways that this can be done. I invite and encourage you to examine yourself – in this season of self-examination – and find areas where you can treat yourself with more honor and respect, either by giving a little extra effort OR by easing off the throttle, giving yourself a break,
and showing yourself some more compassion. It’s not a cop out! It’s not settling. It’s leaning into Good Enough. But since we’re sitting here in a synagogue, and you’re listening to a rabbi, let me also give you a religious example. Let’s talk about observance, and commitment to Judaism. Here it comes, folks: The opposite of my Guilt-Free Judaism speech! It’s the Guilt-Is-Back Speech!!
Ok, you obviously know that’s not true, especially if you’ve listening to anything I’ve said these past 12 minutes. Last year, on the 2nd day of Rosh Hashanah, I introduced a concept, that I want to reinforce for you today. Does it count as plagiarism if I’m quoting myself? A year ago, I spoke about my frustration with our current Jewish lingo. If you keep Shabbat or keep Kosher, you are called Shomer Shabbat or Shomer Kashrut; Shomer Shabbes. And if you don’t observe the laws PERFECTLY, there’s no other term for you. It’s all or nothing. Last year I said, “If you, for instance, come to Friday night services, but then go to the Phillies game or go out to dinner at a restaurant - AND do NOT order Kosher food - I still say you brought Shabbat into your life, and that constitutes real commitment. If you keep a Kosher home but don’t eat Kosher food outside, that too represents genuine, heartfelt dedication to Judaism. I cannot call that “Shomer Shabbat” or “Shomer Kashrut,” but maybe I don’t need to. Or want to. It is hurting us, as a people, to define ourselves as good or bad.”
In that speech, a year ago, I made up a new term. Well, I had the idea, and developed the concept, but then I couldn’t think of a name. And it was Rabbi Miller, with whom I had then only worked for a month or two, who actually came up with the perfect term. And though I unveiled it last year, it’s actually perfect for this year’s theme. We need a new category, an in-between option that’s more than nothing but less than fully observant. I submit to you, “Mechabeid Shabbat” and “Mechabeid Kashrut,” “Honoring Shabbat” and “Honoring our Dietary Laws.” Just as love is the pinnacle of a relationship, Shomer Shabbat is the pinnacle of ritual adherence. Mechabeid Shabbat is Good Enough, but not in a way that connotes settling or falling short. Good Enough is GOOD.
So let me turn the spotlight on all of you. Is there room for “Mechabeid Kashrut” in your lives? You don’t need to be an Orthodox Jew, or even – God forbid – a rabbi. But is there a place for Good Enough, for honoring yourself by infusing life with more joy, meaning, and spirituality in your daily experiences? To add one practice, or one more intention to the way you live your life today? To not feel you need to make excuses for your level of knowledge or spirituality, while simultaneously challenging yourself to remain on that journey, to remain in relationship with your Judaism?
This is my invitation. I’ll echo my sentiment from last year: “Bring your authentic selves; bring all aspects of your struggles with Judaism and its rituals, and leave behind the obstacles and barriers that you think Judaism has put up to keep you at bay. Judaism is not holding you at arm’s length; it is inviting you in.” Like our great ancestor, Leah, we too can flip the script and break the cycle of negativity and self-judgment. In that way, it isn’t just “Mechabeid Shabbat” or “Mechabeid Kashrut,” it’s also “Mechabeid et Atzmecha/Atzmeich,” “Honor and Respect Yourself.” Use the opportunity of these holidays to strive and push to be more content and happy, and it will make each and every one of us truly and gloriously wealthy indeed.
Shanah Tovah!

Chol Ha-Moed Pesach: Some Unrestricted Thoughts from Inside the 'Freedom' of Passover

It feels somewhat ironic, I think. Almost humorous. We celebrate Passover, the Festival of Freedom, by being as restrictive with our food 

and our homes as we possibly can be. How does it feel 'free' to cover our counters, replace all our dishes, and eat cardboard sheets instead of bread for EIGHT days? The prayer service throughout the week of Passover highlights that this is 'Chag Ha-Matzot,' the 'festival of Matzah,' and it always comes with the epithet, 'Z'man Cheiruteinu,' the 'season of our freedom.' And yet, I don't feel very free. I feel decidedly NOT free, and I think my stomach would agree with me...

So is this just a joke? Is it tongue-in-cheek? Especially if you take the idea one step further. During our Seder table dinners, we spoke about being redeemed from slavery, in Hebrew 

'avdut.' And this 'avdut' was backbreaking and exhausting and forcefully imposed upon us by the Egyptians. And then? God brought us out with 'a mighty hand and an outstretched arm,' and took us into... more servitude. We didn't really go from slavery to total freedom, to a hedonistic, self-centered, care-free lifestyle, did we? We were brought into the desert, to Mount Sinai, to receive the Ten Commandments and the Torah, which dictated a whole new system of laws and obligations that we were to undertake. Even today, we have repurposed the word 'avdut' to mean 'prayer.' Our synagogue slogan is 'Torah, AVODAH, G'milut Chasadim,' meaning 'Learning, prayer, and deeds of lovingkindness.' But it's the same word. Service to the Egyptians - harsh, imposed, and evil as it may have been - is now service under another ruler.

But there IS a substantial difference. Obviously. Judaism gives us a heritage, a culture, a sense of belonging, a family, and of course foods, songs, jokes, and so much more. We call it 'Avodat ha-Lev'; still service, yes, but 'service of the heart.' And so looking back at the celebration of Passover, and the sense we might have right now, in the midst of it, that we're more restricted than ever on this, our festival of freedom. 

We actually realize TWO things: 1) This ain't so bad. We complain about it, but really we feel a sense of connection and community with Jews everywhere who open up lunch boxes at work to find matzah pizza and gefilte fish instead of PB&J's. We like the complaining, and it forms kinship. Even the cleaning can be therapeutic, and once a year the house looks sparkly and shiny again (and yes, I DID do a lot of the cleaning in my house!!). And 2) (And this is REALLY the point I wanted to make) Eight days away from our normal lives, our regular routines, and our old habits, actually is just enough time to really miss them, and to appreciate them again when they return. The freedom of Passover, in many ways, is actually achieved just as the holiday ends, and our 'normal' foods taste so exotic and wonderful again, even if just for that first, glorious bite. THAT is the taste of freedom!

Fasting works the same way on Yom Kippur. We complain about it, we get annoyed, we sit and compare foods we miss. And yet, it both creates kinship, and then it makes you appreciate your food and drink that much more when you have it back again. Sometimes 

depriving ourselves temporarily can make us more appreciative all year long. How would or could you appreciate freedom if you never knew any different? No one savors Democracy or the right to vote so much as the person who never had it before, and then finally gets to cast their very first free vote ever. When we take something away from ourselves - which we have the freedom and luxury of being able to do - and then we give it back, it teaches us appreciation and gratitude that's otherwise hard to come by. It may not feel like it right in the moment (like now, with four more days of Passover to go...), but I truly believe this is freedom. We remove it briefly, and then reintroduce it again. And then, for just a moment, it tastes SO sweet.

Photos in this blog post:

1. CC image courtesy of Kosherstock on Wikimedia Commons

2. CC image courtesy of EncycloPetey on Wikimedia Commons (No, that's not my arm, but thank you! I'm flattered.)

3. CC image courtesy of Bdcousineau on Wikimedia Commons

4. CC image courtesy of DVIDSHUB on Wikimedia Commons

Tetzaveh: The Goats Love This Plan More Than Anyone...

By now, you're probably tired of hearing me yammer on about sustainability, CSAs, composting, and recycling. I hear you. I too would be pretty bored at this point if I were you (but luckily for me, I'm not). So out of respect to you, dear reader, I am going to continue droning on about sustainability, BUT please imagine me nodding sympathetically as I do. Your concerns are VERY important to me.

Anyhoo, many of you came to our Scholar-in-Residence weekend a few days ago, and had the pleasure of learning from Nigel Savage, the director of Hazon. After the weekend, I received tons of questions

from congregants about one particular story Nigel told us. In 2007, Hazon wanted to push people to really think about what it means to eat meat, and so they slaughtered three goats at their annual Food Conference. You can read all about it here. People at Ohev who heard this story seemed morbidly fascinated, and we got into lengthy discussions about how Hazon could do something like this. The only logical response I could possibly think of was, 'We should try it here.' So that is exactly what we are going to do.

Now obviously, killing a goat would be cruel. Instead, we are going to slaughter a few chickens. As you know, we are about to begin working with a CSA (Community-Supported Agriculture) called Red Rock

Farm. Even though we are primarily using the CSA for your run-of-the-mill farm items, e.g. vegetables, fruits, eggs, yogurt, and soda, they have graciously offered to provide us with three chickens for this once-in-a-lifetime experience! Isn't that great?? We haven't decided on a date yet, but it would seem most logical to combine it with our Bless the Pets event, sometime over the summer. It also occurred to me, as I was planning the event AND the subsequent menu, that we should combine it with a lesson about Ancient Israelite worship.

This week's Torah portion (didn't think I'd be making a link to our parashah, did you?) deals with the rituals of the High Priest and his sons. We never really  get an opportunity to  experience what this was all about, so when we undertake this highly-tasteful-and-not-at-all-inappropriate ritual slaughter, we are also going to bring back some of the rituals performed by the Kohanim in the Temple!

David Pollack and Ruth Kaplan, two congregants descended from the priestly tribe, have offered to officiate at this ceremony, which will take place in the synagogue parking lot (you'll understand why in just a minute...). It involves following the procedure described in Exodus, 29:20: "take some of its blood and put it on the ridge of Aaron's right ear and on the ridges of his sons' right ears, and on the thumbs of their right hands, and on the big toes of their right feet; and dash the rest of the blood against every side of the altar round about." I'm VERY excited about this plan! (Please note: Some of the blood might splatter, so make sure to bring a rain coat, and one that washes out tough stains easily...)

What a unique opportunity this will be for Ohev Shalom! We get to learn about the ancient, nitty-gritty rituals of our ancestors; we get to

eat a wonderful chicken dinner together; and we get to be sustainable and animal-friendly in the process. How could it get any better?? I am certain that you have many questions and one or two minor concerns, but primarily I'm sure you're just as THRILLED about this as I am. And I think you'll especially agree that this whole plan is particularly appropriate for this weekend's holiday celebration...

Happy Purim!!

Photos in this blog post:

1. CC image courtesy of uncle.capung on Flickr

2. CC image courtesy of Muffet on Flickr

3. CC image courtesy of BarelyFitz on Flickr

4. CC image courtesy of fairfaxcounty on Flickr

5. Image courtesy of Rabbi Gerber's very confused iPhone... (Is that edible?) Chicken generously donated by Beverly Weiner, lovingly chosen from her flock for just this purpose.

Yitro: What are You Eating, and What's Eating You?

Last weekend, Ohev Shalom hosted Dr. Jordan Rosenblum as our annual Scholar in Residence. In short, he spoke about Jews and Food, covering subjects like the history of separating milk products from meat products, the taboo against eating pork, and the relationship between Jews and non-Jews surrounding food. I haven't had a chance

to poll too many people yet, but my sense is that Jordan rustled a few feathers, and surprised some people with his straight-forward presentation of the sources. I think some people were left with one, major glaring question; "So why should I (still) keep Kosher?" That is indeed an excellent question. Frankly, I'm glad people were thrown a little, because I think this opens up an opportunity for us to have a serious, frank, and emotional conversation about how and what we eat. 

This Shabbat, I would like to talk with you about eating. If you're around, please consider joining us for services on Saturday morning, where we will have an open (and potentially heated...) discussion, which I am calling, "What are you eating, and what's eating you?" I will, however, save you some

of the suspense by telling you right now, I'm not going to try to convince anyone to keep Kosher. I really don't think that's my job. Some people might disagree with me, and if you're one of them, I apologize. I'm just not going to do it. I want you to love being Jewish. If you want that to include Kashrut, GREAT! I will give you some sources, I'll offer helpful tips, I'll even be your personal cheerleader! But if you aren't interested, neither am I. Am I really here to make people feel guilty about what they do? I don't think so. But if that's true, then what's the point, right? What the heck are we all doing here, and why is the Ohev Shalom kitchen still strictly Kosher?!?

Jordan spoke a lot about having 'a food ethic' last weekend, and I think this might help guide our conversation moving forward. For me personally, and for us as a synagogue, our food ethic is rooted in Kashrut. Rabbi Brad Artson, in his book, "It's a Mitzvah!", writes that "Kashrut harnesses the act of eating to our identity, our community, and our morality. For thousands of years, the dietary laws have

created a potent bond, solidifying Jewish identity, forging a link with Jews throughout time and across a globe, and strengthening family and friends into communities devoted to a more humane order on Earth." What does your eating say about you? You don't have to keep Kosher to make a statement, but I think it's imperative that you DO think about how and what you eat. And remember, some people keep Kosher and still ignore the essential values of ethics, cleanliness, and sustainability, so just keeping Kosher, doesn't mean you're off the hook! What is your personal food ethic?

In this week's Torah reading (I bet you were wondering if I was ever going to get there...), Moses receives the Ten Commandments. By the way, none of the Top Ten speak about keeping Kosher... Just after God finishes presenting the first ten mitzvot to the Israelites, and is getting ready to continue speaking, the people ask Moses to be their intermediary. "You speak to us...

and we will obey; but let not God speak to us, lest we die" (Exodus, 20:16). Hearing the voice of God directly is too much for the people, they need a buffer. Moses - and later the prophets, the ancient and medieval rabbis, and today our modern rabbinic authorities - need to 'distill' the laws from their overpowering original. Yes, it's true what Jordan told us; the origin of separating meat comes from one, measly verse about cooking goats in milk. But so what? Why should that be the end of the story, and why should it shock you to know that our rabbis took liberties with the text as our legal code grew and evolved?!

Our laws and practices today do not come straight from God. But however you choose to eat, there should be a Divine spark, a dash

of holiness and ethics, flavoring every bite you consume. And if you disagree with me, have questions or strong opinions, or just want to talk about this some more, please join us on Saturday morning... and after services, we'll eat!

Photos in this blog post:  

1. Image courtesy of Frances Sheehan and Congregation Ohev Shalom

2. CC image courtesy of Sam Felder on Flickr

3. CC image courtesy of Yandle on Flickr  

4. CC image courtesy of David Blaine on Flickr

5. CC image courtesy of MrVJTod on Flickr

Yom Kippur: High Holiday Sermon Series 5771 - #5

You may need a quick background for my lead-in. I talk about Andy Szabo, who spoke to the congregation about our new Legacy Society, where congregants put Ohev Shalom in their wills or make the synagogue the beneficiary of life insurance policies. This is a new initiative for the synagogue, so I began my sermon by referring to Andy's talk.

Yom Kippur Main Sermon

When I first realized that Andy (Szabo) was going to be speaking today, right before this sermon, I was very pleased to discover that it was actually a great lead-in for me, and for what I was going to talk about myself. Andy was trying to convey the importance of caring for your community, even after you are gone; of contributing to something even though it may not benefit you yourself. It’s about being part of something bigger than oneself, or one’s immediate family.

By now, you might be getting a little sick of my constant harping on about pride. So you probably were hoping that I would take a break from it for a sermon or two. Well, you’d be wrong. I will, however, expand the definition of pride a little.

I began by talking about Pride in Oneself, then Pride in One’s Family, followed by Pride in One’s Community – but all of these are about things that affect you, about making changes that improve your life and that keep YOU connected to those around you. Andy introduced us to the notion of the next step, of thinking ahead to what will come after you. This too is a form of pride, giving to a larger cause, but also caring about people you may never have met, and whom you may never engage with.

I’m not going to focus on the same topic as Andy, this isn’t a Pride in our Legacy Society speech. But I do want to shift our conversation away from our individual needs, away from our synagogue in the here and now, which is similar to what Andy did. As we expand outwards, adding another circle of Pride to our ongoing conversation, please do keep these ideas that Andy has shared with us in mind, and we will return to them later on. Right now, I would like to talk about Conservative Judaism.

This is a Conservative congregation. I am a Conservative Rabbi, trained at a Conservative Movement school in New York, the Jewish Theological Seminary, and we are all affiliated with this denomination through our synagogue. But I wonder if I were to poll all of you here today, how many of you could describe what it means to be a Conservative Jew, and how many of you feel like Conservative Jews.

I imagine the numbers would be quite low, but it’s definitely not YOUR fault. The Conservative Movement has been in an identity crisis for the better part of 20 years, or perhaps more, and we are still struggling to figure out what we stand for, and who we are.

Now, to some extent, maybe it doesn’t really matter. Maybe we can focus on OURselves, here at Ohev, do what we do, work on building this congregation, and not worry about whether we’re part of this movement or that movement. Who cares anyway? Some people are even calling themselves “post-denominational” these days, claiming that movements, as such, are outdated. We’re Jewish, and we’re proud of it, and let’s leave it at that!

The only problem for me is, I like being a Conservative Jew. I love what this movement stands for, I love what it has given me, I continue to be inspired by its theology, its vision, and its leaders, and it makes me feel part of something bigger than just this community. I don’t think everything the movement has done is terrific, I can’t say I’m ecstatic with some of its current leadership, and there are lots of things in Reform, Reconstructionist, and Orthodox Judaism that I think we can learn from, that are really excellent.

Sometimes people fear that if I speak to highly of myself, that I am inherently disparaging The Other. That just by saying, “This is what I like about me,” I am insinuating that you are no good at it. Obviously, I disagree. This whole sermon series is about the value of pride. In this case, I think that when we stand tall, feel proud of our movement, and embrace what makes us Conservative Jews, we will be better at communicating with others. We become better partners in dialog when we speak with self-confidence and pride. I have often found that those who are comfortable with themselves are more tolerant of others; it is the people who are insecure, who need to prove something, and who defend their position the most vociferously that we need to worry about.

So yes, I am a Conservative Jew. I cannot tell you how to feel about yourself, about your own affiliation. I cannot try to convince you why this movement is right for you, and I certainly have no interest in disparaging other movements to try and prove why this is the “right” movement. I can only tell you, simply and plainly, why I am a Conservative Jew, and if you agree with me, or hear things that resonate with you, I invite you to join me on this, my journey of affiliation.

I recently had the pleasure of hearing a panel discussion with three prominent rabbis in the Conservative Movement, Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson, dean of the rabbinical school in California, Rabbi David Wolpe, Rabbi of Sinai Temple in LA, and whom I have often quoted from the pulpit, and Rabbi Ed Feinstein, of Valley Beth Shalom in Encino. (It was a very California-based conversation) Rabbi Wolpe began by saying that when it comes to movement branding, “If you can’t put it on a bumper sticker, you will discover that in fact you can’t enunciate it in a way that people understand, appreciate, or can live.”

Even with a couple of weeks to prepare this sermon, I’m not sure I’m quite ready to create a bumper sticker, that’s a lot of pressure! (Though I will say that our new logo and tagline would actually fit quite well on a bumper sticker! Karen, a new idea for the giftshop perhaps?)

But if I had to pick a term or an idea that I like, it would go with the former Chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary, Rabbi Ismar Schorsch, who wrote a book called, “Polarities in Balance.” I like that idea of two polarized ideas, in this case, tradition and change, being held in a harmonious balance. That is what we do! That is what it means to be to be a Conservative Jew. To keep one foot rooted in tradition, in Halacha (Jewish law), Shabbat observance, Kashrut, the holidays, religious services; yet at the same time always with the other foot in the secular, modern world.

Rabbi Artson, in this panel discussion, talked about the essential questions that drive us as human beings:

What does it mean to be human?

How do I live my life with meaning?

How do I live my life with integrity?

And What does the world need from me?

And we address those modern, and perhaps eternal, questions with a question of our own: Are there resources within the Torah tradition to help me frame my answer? We, as Conservative Jews, try to provide the Jewish tools for addressing universal questions.

What I particularly love about this approach is the fact that it’s a process, what you might expect me to call a journey. Rabbi Wolpe likes to talk about a Judaism of Relationships – focusing on the areas of relationship to the Jewish people, to non-Jews, to God, to Israel, and to ourselves. And, says Rabbi Wolpe, relationships are like Halacha, Jewish law, in that they both change, evolve, and grow.

So that is the first half of my message: Conservative Judaism is about Polarities in Balance, keeping Jewish tradition and secular values in the air at the same time, and it is about being a Judaism of Relationships.

The second half of the message is: How do I feel proud of my movement? What gets me excited about Conservative Judaism and inspires me to tell other people about it, and to speak about it from the pulpit?

Hopefully you’ve heard me speak about Conservative Movement issues at some point, whether from up here, in the minyan, over e-mail, or in person. But let me name a few things going on, that I believe you need to know about:

o One of the biggest issues facing the movement is the situation in Israel. Earlier this year, we were able to postpone a bill that was going through the Knesset, and which the Orthodox are trying to make into law, which would give sole religious authority to the Orthodox Court. It is called the Rotem Bill, and sadly it’ll be up for discussion again this fall. If passed, it would mean that no non-Orthodox conversions would be accepted, and it would, for the first time, tamper with the Law of Return, to start making value judgments about who is a Jew, and who can make aliyah to Israel.

o David Lissy, the Executive Director of the Masorti Movement, wrote a letter, which you can read online, where he talks about the movement struggles. He writes, “When 100,000 haredim (Ultra Orthodox) take to the streets to defy the Supreme Court, the problem is greater than the disruption to commerce which ensues. When a young woman is arrested for the crime of wearing a tallit and another is physically assaulted because t’fillin strap marks are visible on her arm, and when on public bus lines women are told to ride in the rear, it is an attack on the entire fabric of society.”

o Indeed, these are incidents that have happened in the last few months. One woman was attacked in Beer Sheva, not Jerusalem, because it was clear she had been praying with her tefillin on, straps traditionally only worn by men. Another woman was arrested, by the Israeli police, for carrying a Torah scroll by the Western Wall. And women are, in fact, required on some public bus routes to ride in the back of the bus, or they suffer attacks from male passengers, while the driver looks on and does nothing.

o But our voices in the Diaspora ARE heard. We CAN make a difference, if we stand up for what we know to be right, and proudly defend non-Orthodox denominations, and fight for equality in Israel. Yes, Israel faces external threats, and we must defend her against all of those as well. But David Lissy also writes, “We have shown we know how to stand shoulder to shoulder with Israel to fight external threats. Now we have to show our support for the overwhelming number of Israelis who are wrestling with internal challenges to the core values of a Jewish and democratic society.”

o Aside from the situation in Israel, our movement DOES give us cause for great pride in other areas as well. Cantor Friedrich has graciously agreed to serve as one of our liaisons, Ambassadors really, to Hechsher Tzedek. Recently, you may have seen reports in the news about Kosher meat plants where the workers were mistreated, and where the animals were living in terrible conditions. Some might say this has nothing to do with keeping Kosher, that all we care about is having a rabbi bless the meat, kill the animal a certain way, and we’re good to go. It is the Conservative Movement that is spear-heading a change. Hechsher Tzedek is an organization pushing for a separate seal on foods, placed next to other stamps of Kosher certification, but this one indicating that the workers who handled the product were treated well, paid fair wages, and not abused. It indicates that animals were not mistreated, and that they did not suffer to provide you with food.

o For some of us, there is no such thing as Kosher veal or Kosher foie gras, because these products inherently involve cruelty towards animals, and yes, that matters if we’re going to eat them. We have provided flyers on the table here in the Sanctuary if you would like to read more. Thank you to Cantor Friedrich for helping connect us to this important cause, and please let me know if you too would like to serve as an Ambassador to Hechsher Tzedek.

I have given you just a couple of examples of how Conservative Judaism engages with the world around us. “Polarities in Balance” and a “Judaism of Relationships” – these central principles help guide my life, and have already shaped my vision for Ohev Shalom. Along with all the other things I have asked you to feel proud of these High Holidays, I ask you now to also feel proud and confident in the Conservative Movement. We’re not perfect! The movement has got a lot of work to do, and WE have got a lot of work to do. But I’m not ready to abandon ship just yet. I firmly believe that when we are strong and resolute Conservative Jews, we engage better with other movements, other religions, certainly with Israel, and with the world at large.

Pride can indeed have many definitions. Pride in that which is closest to us, as well as Pride in something bigger than ourselves, like a world-wide movement. The common denominator is standing up for what we believe in; feeling enough pride that we care about something and want to see it succeed, grow, and evolve.

Pride is about ownership and taking responsibility…Hey, maybe that would make a good bumper sticker?

Shana Tovah!