Summer (Newsletter) Message – Happy Ten(or tin?)-a-versary!

I'm continuing to post my Ohev Shalom newsletter (entitled L'Chaim) articles here on the blog. These are in addition to the weekly Torah (or Haftarah) posts. Thanks for reading!


I don’t know if this is more surprising to you or to me, but right now I’m starting my TENTH year as the rabbi of Ohev Shalom! Hard to believe, isn’t it? Sooo, whadya get me??? Our tenth-anniversary symbol is tin or aluminum, so I’m thinking maybe a picture frame or some funky jewelry? Regardless, the point is: We’ve been doing this together for a long time. We’ve got roots, a special bond, and you’ve given me license to try some pretty gutsy things from the bimah: I faked a panic attack, I had David Pollack pretend to be the Voice of God, and I invited non-traditional speakers to challenge us all from the pulpit. Not to mention my shenanigans OFF the pulpit, like dressing in drag, getting whipped cream thrown in my face, and more! Needless to say, it’s been a great (first) ten years.

But it can also be a challenge. At what point will you start tuning me out? When do I become the grownup in a Charlie Brown cartoon, blathering on like a trombone (or shofar?) without making any sense? I’ve started saying to people who ask, I am not prepared for this! In rabbinical school, they gave tips and advice on being a rabbi in year one, some thoughts for year three, and an idea or two for year five. But TEN?!? And beyond? It’s anyone’s guess really. So, what do you want that script to look like?

As your friendly neighborhood shofar (and one you’ve heard blow a lot of hot air for years…), I’m working on some new “material” for the High Holidays that will hopefully wake you up. Rosh Hashanah is a time for new beginnings; maybe ESPECIALLY when you’ve gotten into a routine and have become (perhaps) a bit lethargic. When relationships are genuinely new, it’s easy to talk about fresh starts and clean slates. It’s a little harder when you’re ready to exchange aluminum clocks and tin pendants. But don’t you worry, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, and hopefully you’ve got some new ideas to contribute as well. I’m excited for yet another year together, and more time to bond, deepen our shared roots, and challenge one another. It is, however, a two-way street. I’ll work on turning my trombone into a shofar, and you get ready to listen and respond. Deal?

Then let’s get started!

Shanah Tovah,

Rabbi Gerber

Comforting Haftarah #1: You doubt me??

We've turned a corner. For three weeks, we read Haftarot of WARNING, preparing us for the impending destruction of the Temple(s) in Jerusalem. Then we observed Tisha b'Av, which commemorates the actual razing of those structures (along with many other calamities that befell us over the millenia).

The cycle of our year offers us an interesting lesson on life at this fragile moment: Once our worst fears have been realized, there's no point in continuing the chastisement. No use kicking someone when they're down, and it isn't really in the spirit of prophecy to run around declaring: "I told you so! I told you so!" For the next few weeks, our Haftarah texts change their tenor dramatically. Now we are treated to words of comfort and reassurance: God DOES still care, God sees our plight, and God WILL restore us to our land in peace... some day. And who among us - then OR now - could possibly doubt God's beneficent intentions???

Ok, so let's talk a little bit about faith and doubt. For many people, questioning religious "truths," especially about God, is either something quiet and embarrassing - that we only admit to ourselves behind closed doors - or its a badge we wear proudly and loudly - declared as a defiant, indignant, atheistic clarion call.

And I get it. The religious establishment, as well as most of our prayers, speaks with perfect faith and unshakable trust in the Divine... and it's obnoxious. Who actually feels that way? Do you know anyone who has NEVER felt any doubt in God or God's involvement in our world? Honestly, if someone raised her/his hand and insisted that s/he had truly never felt any doubt; I would be inclined to question their naivete or their morals. Doubt and concern are part of being thinking, rational, ethical beings, and we live in an uncertain world! Even in this, our first Haftarah of comfort, I maintain that there is an underlying thread of despondency that runs solidly through our text.

It is hidden, of course. On its surface - like so many religious texts - the prophecy of Isaiah sounds wholly confident. Just hold onto this question for a minute: If I said to you "I feel safe," you could choose to believe me or not, but it's really a toss-up. If, however, I repeated it over and over -

"I feel safe, I feel safe, I feel safe, I feel safe" - does anyone reading this think I am ACTUALLY confident... or am I trying to persuade and soothe myself because I feel the exact OPPOSITE?! The prophecy in our Haftarah is addressed to our ancestors living in Babylon, a few decades after the Babylonian Empire destroyed our Temple and dragged us into slavery. (Tough crowd for Isaiah's encouraging and hopeful message...) The prophet declares: "Behold! The Lord God comes in might, and God's Arm establishes God's rule" (40:10). Additional triumphant verses of flawless faith are added, and Adonai is depicted as omnipotent, all-good, and deeply concerned about the well-being of the Israelite people. But there's a problem.

Isaiah likes rhetorical questions. No big deal, right? "To whom, then, can you liken God? What form compare to the Divine?" (18) "Do you not know? Have you not heard? Have you not been told from the very beginning??" (21) These are SO obvious, right? Isaiah sounds almost like he's smiling,  telling all these silly doubters, "Don't you know how great God is??" The problem is, I count 21
rhetorical questions from verses 12 to 26. That's a lot of supposed confidence! At what number question might it slip over from "I feel perfectly safe!" to rocking back and forth hugging oneself? My point in saying all of this is, doubt, fear, insecurity, and questioning are NOT antithetical to religion; they are actually vitally important parts of any spiritual enterprise. If you are a doubter, congratulations! You don't need to hide your concerns behind closed doors, and you also don't need to throw them at people with fiery, righteous indignation. It's ok. Solid, unwavering, impenetrable faith is a hoax. I imagine others will disagree with me, which is their right. But that's one thing about which I, personally, have NO doubt. So speak your uncertainties aloud, share them with others. It'll feel good, it'll help you get through tough times when faith feels impossibly distant, and it might even offer some comfort. After all, 'tis the season for it...


Images in this blog post:
1. CC image courtesy of cdrummbks on Flickr
2. CC image courtesy of wbeem on Flickr
3. CC image courtesy of George Hodan on PublicDomainPictures.net
4. CC image courtesy of Tattorack on Deviantart.com

WARNING Haftarah #3: Don't Forget About Tisha b'Av

Memory is a very powerful tool. In Judaism, we emphasize the importance of memory quite frequently, both individually and communally. We even have several services that derive their names from variations on the word for "Remember" in Hebrew, "Zachor":
E.g. Yizkor, Yichronot (on Rosh Hashanah), Eileh Ezkerah (on Yom Kippur), and Yom Ha-Zikaron (a day of remembering Israel's fallen soldiers). But the main reason why we focus so much on memory might surprise you. Sure, it's about holding on to our history, being knowledgeable Jews, and honoring our past. However, it's even more essential - and urgent - than that. Tomorrow night, we commemorate the saddest day on the Jewish calendar, Tisha b'Av. The prayer service for Tisha b'Av is almost like a vigil or a shiva service... which is intentional, because we are mourning some of the worst tragedies in Jewish history. I urge everyone to attend - either at Ohev or elsewhere - and not because remembering and perpetual grief is a good thing. No, I hope you'll observe Tisha b'Av for that other, MUCH more important reason.

Now, you may ask: Why on earth should I sit on the floor, in a dimly lit room, holding a flashlight, crying over two Temples that were destroyed 1,950 and 2,600 years ago respectively??? Well, first of all, it's an incredibly powerful service. It taps deep into human emotion, and we create a spiritual and holy space that is unlike almost any other service throughout the Jewish year. It's worth it; I promise.

But then, there's our second reason; an impetus for change. In our Haftarah this weekend, Isaiah hits us squarely over the head with it: "Your hands are stained with crime! Wash yourselves clean; remove your evil doings from my sight: [Namely:] Cease to do evil, learn to do good, devote yourselves to justice, aid the wronged, uphold the rights of the orphan, and defend the cause of the widow!" (Isaiah 1:15-17) Sound familiar? Our courts today may declare racism a thing of the past, our leaders may celebrate that the war on poverty is over (and supposedly we won), and politicians may tell us climate change is a hoax; but folks, we cannot ignore the severity of ALL these problems. In many cases, they're not only still very much plagues on society, they're getting worse. Change MUST happen. But how?

Perhaps you already see where I'm going with this. George Santayana, in 1905, was credited with the famous saying, "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." We sing, pray, chant, talk, and cry about our historic tragedies, because they open our eyes to the present and help us gird ourselves for the future.

And, in fact, we may STILL be doomed to repeat history, even when we learn from it, but we'll be better prepared and less naive. I don't mean to sound so pessimistic (though we ARE getting ready for a day of mourning...), because I actually don't think this is as grim and fatalistic as it may sound. We should study our history, so that we will be grounded and mindful today. Memory may, in fact, make us more grateful for securities and opportunities that we enjoy right now, and we may even find renewed motivation to fight for causes that are important to us. This does NOT have to be a message of doom and gloom. Every ancient prophet who proclaimed disaster was doing so to urge, beg, and plead with the people to make changes and avert calamity. They were all saying: "There is still time!! (Not much... but some!)" The very next line, after the one I quoted above, shifts tone dramatically. "Come, let us reach an understanding, declares Adonai" (v. 18). We can work on this. Always. Let's talk.

On Saturday night, at our Tisha b'Av service, we will chant the Book of Lamentations. It was likely written in Babylon after 587 BCE, when the Babylonians destroyed the First Temple. Its language harkens back to Isaiah's prophecies, even though Isaiah lived 150
years earlier. Isaiah prophesied about a destroyed temple, but no one listened because they didn't see the full devastation that would come a century later. So they ignored him. Every year, we sit in a dark(ish) room and try to take in the words of Lamentations, because we CANNOT ignore our history any longer. Our Haftarah, by the way, is emphatic and explicit that we are NOT talking about religious observance here. Across all religions, fundamentalists are tempted to read Isaiah as saying "get back to religious adherence and faithful prayer to God!" They are wrong; plain and simple. Check out Isaiah 1: 11-17, if you don't believe me. Our history is a vital tool for both putting our situation in perspective and challenging us to make the world around us a better place. Now, you CAN ignore history. It's at your own peril, I would argue, but it's still a choice. Or you can listen and learn. It will make you a better and stronger person, as well as more humble and compassionate, and it will give you energy for the long journey ahead. Moses, in Deuteronomy 25:19, said it best: "Lo Tishkach!" - "Don't forget!"


Images in this blog post:
1. CC image courtesy of _Alicja_ on Pixabay
2. CC image courtesy of Wikipedia
3. CC image courtesy of johnhain on Pixabay
4. CC image of Gebhard Fugel's "An den Wassern Babylons" ("By the rivers of Babylon") courtesy of WolfD59 on Wikimedia Commons

WARNING Haftarah #2: How???

How did we get here? How did we allow things to get this bad, look the other way when our institutions became corrupted and immoral, and hand our fate over to the insane whims of power-hungry dictators??? These are, of course, the questions
that the ancient prophet Jeremiah posed to his audience in this week's Haftarah. Our rabbinic ancestors did two really clever things by putting this forward as the parallel text to our parashah. I'll get to those sneaky lessons in a minute. I first want to remind you that this is the second Haftarah (of three) that takes us from a minor fast day, the 17th of Tammuz, when the walls of Jerusalem were breached, to THE major day of sadness on our Jewish calendar, Tisha b'Av, the ninth of the month of Av, when the Temple was destroyed. Many other disasters also befell us on, or around, this day, so it's a catch-all for lamenting oppression and persecution. These are the three Haftarot of Rebuke, hence my titles for these blog posts are "WARNING Haftarah" #1, 2, and 3. But our grief and concern is not just historic; it is very much real and present-day. And the rabbis do NOT want you to forget it.

Jeremiah is mainly just focused on his contemporaries. They worship idols, and they form allegiances with nations that "should" be enemies, like Assyria and Egypt, and turn their backs on allies. Hard to imagine, I know. The prophet exclaims:

"How can you say, 'I am not defiled, I have not gone after the Ba'alim [idols]'?? Look at your deeds... consider what you have done!!" (2:23) Jeremiah is stunned that they would deny wrongdoing in the face of incontrovertible evidence. Now, I said Jeremiah was "just" focused on his compatriots, which made sense because he was facing a real-time crisis. However, by bringing his prophecies to their own audience, hundreds if not thousands of years later, the rabbis are sending an important message. Babylonia may be long gone, as are the Assyrians and the infamous Ba'alim-statues; but we're still violating God's laws and failing to care for God's vulnerable children. Tisha b'Av isn't just powerful because we remember the past; it challenges us to introspect and be better moving forward. These Haftarah texts prepare us for Tisha b'Av and remind us that we too are part of Jewish history, and we too have an obligation to make our societies and congregations the best they can be.

So here's the other smart trick the rabbis pull: a hidden linguistic link. Jeremiah's most powerful indictments, including the one I quoted above, start with the same word, "Eich," meaning "how." As in "HOW can you keep sinning like this?!?"

And it's a word that can lead you in many different directions, right? It's a genuine inquiry - "How did we get to this state of affairs?" - it's a rhetorical and indignant declaration - "How could our leaders be so callous?!?" - and also a hope and challenge for the future - "How will we work to improve our situation?" Furthermore, it's a question that requires specific answers, details, plans. Not just "why did it happen," but "how, precisely, are we going to start fixing it?" But the rabbis were even more clever still! The text we read next week on Tisha b'Av is the Book of Lamentations; a tragic story told by an author living post-destruction, who witnessed the ruin of his/her people, and who cries tears of utter despair. In Hebrew, Lamentations is called "Eicha," from the same root as the word "how," "Eich."

This single word thus represents a powerful bond between our two texts. And yet, their meanings are different. The first word in the Book of Lamentations is "Eicha," which can be translated as "Alas!" It is a deep, bitter, tragic outcry of grief.

Everything is ruined; all hope is gone. But if you just drop out one letter, we are instantly transported to Jeremiah, pleading with the people to change and be more caring... before it's too late. The rabbis don't just want us to learn ABOUT history; they want us to learn FROM history. Listen, I know there are many, many reasons to despair. "Alas" and "If only..." seem like ever-present lamentations on our minds and hearts. But the Bible is - and our ancient teachers are - challenging us to shift "Oy Vey" into "OK... how do we affect change?" We can't learn anything from history until we truly listen to what it's trying to tell us; that is why we read Jeremiah and Eicha. But if we treat our history like a museum, protected behind a glass wall, then we are failing to engage with it and make it applicable to our lives TODAY! Sooo... how do YOU want to read these texts and internalize these messages? How are you going to let it spur you to action? And how, ultimately, are you going to help change the world and make it a better place? The time is now, for all of us to ask "how."


Images in this blog post:
1. CC image courtesy of "Philip Halling / A crack in the wall, Newbridge on Usk / CC BY-SA 2.0" on Wikimedia Commons
2. CC image courtesy of hohum on Wikimedia Commons
3. CC image courtesy of AFIMSC on www.afimsc.af.mil
4. CC image courtesy of bukvoed on Wikimedia Commons

WARNING Haftarah #1: The God of Love Doesn't Hold Crazy Positions

The journey, once again, has begun. Believe it or not, this week's Haftarah is the first of three warning shots, followed by the saddest day on the Jewish calendar, Tisha b'Av. We commemorate the destructions of BOTH ancient Temples in Jerusalem, as well as other calamities that befell generations of our ancestors.

We then begin a series of seven Haftarot of comfort, and right after that... is Rosh Hashanah and the High Holiday season. So yeah, even though it's hot out and it's the middle of summer, the Season of Repentance is now in view at the edge of the horizon. This also means it's the time to start to focus. What will we want to change in the year ahead? What's currently not functioning at 100%, or possibly even broken entirely, that REALLY needs our attention. We need that focus, because it's easy to get distracted and miss the Big Issues. Our Haftarah, for example, looks like it's talking about one thing, but it's really another. Oh, and some people today read this text looking at a third issue. But I don't like that third one... so I want to add a fourth!

I told you it's a sad season on our calendar, right? We hear the warnings issued to the People of Israel to hopefully avert disaster, but they ignore the admonition, and TWICE their Temples are destroyed. So what

better prophet to speak to us about our national tragedy than Jeremiah, the proverbial Eeyore of prophets. Our Haftarah comes from the very first chapter of Jeremiah, and right away, we are told that "from the north disaster will break loose on all the inhabitants of the land!" (1:14). Destruction is coming, and Jeremiah is the bearer of some REALLY bad news. And while Jeremiah focuses on the idolatrous practices of the people, as well as the greed and cruelty of the wealthy who take advantage of those less fortunate, people miss his point entirely. Jeremiah declares that the Temple will be destroyed, but it's meant to be as a SYMBOL of punishment for their sins. Yet the people obsess over the physical structure itself; pompously and self-righteously insisting that annihilation would NEVER come, because God loves this beautiful building too much.

Throughout his writings, Jeremiah and the people talk past one another. He pleads with them to be kinder to others and be loyal to God; they talk only of their gorgeous temple that will never be destroyed. As a result, they totally miss the

point, and the prophecies all come true. Fast forward to today: We are STILL missing the point!! At the heart of all true religious practice - regardless of faith - is love, compassion, and kindness. I say "true," because if someone espouses a religious principle (or worse, claims it's "God's principle") that is cruel, angry, or hateful, I firmly believe it is untrue. And here's a prime example, right in our Haftarah: When Jeremiah is first called to be a prophet, God explains why it has always been Jeremiah's destiny to do this (tough) work: "Before I created you in the womb, I selected you; before you were born, I consecrated you" (1:5). This verse is intended exclusively for Jeremiah, to impress upon him that God chose him eons before he was born. Somehow, this verse - utterly taken out of context - became the clarion call for a movement falsely based on Biblical teachings.

If you are familiar with the abortion debate, you may know that the pro-life movement claims to get its call from God, because of various biblical proof texts. One of the primary verses that is cited on multiple pro-life websites is this verse, Jeremiah 1:5. But again, this is taken TOTALLY

out of context! I believe God knew us millenia before we were born; how then is God's relationship with us transferable to this debate? Even though it's framed as a position of love, it often results in guilting, shaming, attacking, and abusing people who disagree. So how can this be "true" religion? I recently heard an inspiring interview with Rev. William Barber, where he refers to the "false moral narrative of the so-called Christian nationalists." He lists five main topics of this group, among them abortion, and then Rev. Barber declares: "That's not God's position, that's a crazy position! Ain't got nothing to do with God! God is the God of Love." I couldn't agree more. So I'll end by acknowledging that it's easy to get distracted, and easy to let others dictate the conversations. But our ancient prophets remind us that these issues are SERIOUS, and they have major ramifications. God is watching, our descendants are watching, and we cannot abdicate our moral responsibility. We do so at our own peril. The journey has begun, and we need to be really, really clear about what's at stake along this odyssey. Because if we forget, the prophets will surely be there to remind us.


Images in this blogpost:
1. CC image courtesy of Crisco 1492 on Wikimedia Commons
2. CC image courtesy of nikoretro on Wikimedia Commons
3. CC image courtesy of west ga obgyn on Wikimedia Commons
4. CC image courtesy of twbuckner on Wikimedia Commons