Haftarat Shabbat Chol Ha-Moed Sukkot: Prophecy - A Self-Portrait

We are not a short-sighted people. Jews have been called many things - stiff-necked, cynical, skeptical, full of chutzpah, and, of course, many horrible things - but never short-sighted. Ours is a tradition of prophets and predictions, of constant

awareness of past, present, AND future, of repeatedly emphasizing l'Dor va'Dor, "From Generation to Generation." So here's a thought: Are we therefore more mindful of our own behaviors? That is to say, as a people, a community, of long-term thinkers, who maintain an awareness of what our ancestors did millenia ago, and what we hope and pray our descendants will do millenia hence, are we more likely to retain an awareness of the consequences of our actions? Are we better positioned to say, "Hey, what I do impacts others. My choices today may have ramifications for tomorrow AND for future generations"? Gee, I sure hope so...

This week, I've been thinking a lot about self-perception and the outcomes of our behaviors. At every Jewish holiday, we reference our history AND gaze out into the future. In this week's Haftarah, specific to

the Shabbat that falls in the middle of the festival of Sukkot, the prophet Ezekiel describes a future battle, set on "that distant day" (38:16), when Israel's enemies will fall and peace shall reign. On Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Chanukah, Purim, and on Pesach; at all these services, our liturgy tells us to look back AND look ahead. We constantly refer to ourselves as the children of Sarah, Abraham, Isaac, Rebecca, Rachel, Leah, and Jacob, because our text keeps reminding us that their actions, their faith and loyalty, are the reasons we are still here. And if we want Judaism to remain, we need to provide that same foundation for all future generations.

Look, this can be daunting. We don't envision ourselves as the next matriarchs or patriarchs of all of Judaism. I get it. And yet, too often today, we see examples in media and politics of people with no self-awareness. They have just one

narrative about themselves, and they cannot and will not allow anyone to change their minds. Even as evidence mounts that totally REFUTES that perception, they are indignant. And it is most hurtful when their behaviors cause life-long trauma in others. Not only is it completely unacceptable to say "I don't remember doing that" or "that was never my intention," but it's actually much WORSE, because something that was incredibly damaging and devastating for one person wasn't even significant enough to recall for the other. Looking again at the texts of our tradition, you might argue that the common thread that runs through EVERY prophet's vision, through ALL of Biblical prophecy as a whole, is the impact that one generation has on another. What they did eons ago affects us now, and what we do today will transform those who come after us.

This is a crucial lesson for us all; be aware of how you influence others around you. None of us exists in a vacuum. We are always part of a larger society AND a longer chain of history. At every Jewish holiday, and especially now at Sukkot, our Sages remind us that we are always the weakest link in the chain of Jewish history.

Not because of anything we did (or are doing) wrong, but because we are here RIGHT NOW, and we could break that chain and end our Jewish story TODAY! So please, take this seriously. Be humble enough to know that your self-perception is NOT the only way that you are perceived. Be perhaps a bit more awed (as in fearful...) of how you can build up or tear down others around you. Your speech, your actions, and your physical presence can leave long-lasting impressions, either traumatic or inspiring, and you should hold on to that knowledge EVERY day with the full weight of the gravitas it deserves. Never forget that when we stomp along through life, oblivious to the consequences, we can do ENORMOUS harm. We don't get to just ignore that, or plead ignorance or amnesia. Not ever. It is a permanent standard to which we should hold ourselves, as well as our elected and selected leaders. We simply cannot be short-sighted about these kinds of things; their impact is too great.


Thus endeth my year of commenting on the Haftarah texts instead of the Torah portions. Starting next week, I'm going to change the name of this blog back to "Take on Torah" instead of "... Haftarah." I hope you've enjoyed this year-long departure. I anticipate doing this again in a few years; it was great fun, and a nice change of pace! If you have any feedback/thoughts/comments, either in support or critique of the series, please let me know. Thanks so much!


Images in this blog post:
1. CC image courtesy of jim simonson on Flickr
2. CC image courtesy of Pexels.com
3. CC image courtesy of justgrimes on Flickr
4. CC image courtesy of pixabay.com

High Holidays 5779 - Main Sermon, Yom Kippur Morning

Posted below is my main sermon for the morning of Rosh Hashanah, Day Two. To read additional sermons from this year's holidays, go to the drop-down list on the right hand side of the screen. Or from the main page, you can keep scrolling down. Thanks!

YK Main Sermon 5779

Shanah Tovah!

My last two years in rabbinical school, I had the tremendous pleasure of serving as the rabbinic intern for a small congregation outside Charlotte, NC, in the town of Davidson (You may be familiar with Davidson College; Go Steph Curry!). I would fly down to Beth Shalom of Lake Norman, based in Davidson, once a month or so, as well as write a weekly Torah commentary (of course), answer e-mail questions, and work to help them grow their membership and engagement. I loved that congregation, and the terrific people there, and I am pleased to say I am still friends with some of my former congregants... AND, I once did something very dumb in that community.

After having completed a full year as their rabbi, I decided we knew each other well enough; it was time for some radical honesty (though I didn’t use that term back then). I was twenty-seven, I hadn’t even graduated rabbinical school yet, and I’d had twelve successful months in a quasi-pulpit; so yeah, I was basically an idiot. Therefore, on Yom Kippur of only my SECOND High Holidays with them, I talked about a very personal topic. I shared with them that I have been in a life-long battle with eating and with my weight. I told them I was doing Weight Watchers, that it was going quite well, and that it was important to be able to talk about challenging issues like these.

Well, for the next full year, just about every single person in that congregation would come up to me when I’d arrive for my monthly visits and ask, “How’s it going? How much have you lost? Have you been sticking with your plan? What’s your current weight? I shouldn’t offer you any food, should I? Ha, ha, ha! Hilarious…” When the year finally came to a close - and I really DID love all those people and we had a wonderful rapport - I vowed NEVER to speak about weight and eating ever, ever, EVER again.

So, today, I would like to talk to you about my weight. I lasted a decade, ok? I think that’s pretty good. In a way, this feels like an unnecessarily stupid risk, in part because I will NOT be finished with you people twelve, short months from now, and I have no real reason to believe that people here will be more respectful of my privacy. Nevertheless, I am going to do this, because I am a firm believer in radical honesty. It is my focus for these High Holiday sermons, indeed it is my theme for the entire year, and honestly, the more I think about it, it may be a new pervasive thread that will permeate my entire rabbinate. (Unless this backfires horribly…)

I must admit, I cannot remember a time when I wasn’t dieting. As a kid, I remember trying those horrible soup diets, where you eat the same soup for seven days in a row, for one or maybe even two meals EVERY day. That didn’t go too well. I’ve done Weight Watchers four or five times, dating back to my teen years, I’ve tried Atkins and South Beach, I’ve worked with nutritionists, therapists, and psychiatrists. I’ve probably fluctuated 60 or so pounds, up and down, in the past twenty years, and I am incredibly afraid of the repercussions if I cannot get a handle on this before I turn 40. If we’re being really, REALLY honest here - and no point in holding back now, right? - my therapist, whom I’ve now seen essentially since I moved here, recently said that looking at my anxiety around eating, my constant struggles, my overeating, my fears around it, my obsessions; at this point, we should probably consider this an eating disorder. Wow, I just said that, didn’t I?

“Eating disorder”??? That’s kind of ludicrous, don’t you think? I mean, eating disorders are typically bulimia or anorexia, no? Not this! And don’t they mainly affect women and girls, usually in their teens? But those are kind of stereotypes; one-dimensional stories we tell ourselves, and that actually do more harm than good. It took a while for it to sink in, for me to own it, but it is true; my eating is VERY disordered. Food is never NOT on my mind. It’s rumbling around constantly, like a white noise machine whooshing constantly in the background. You think it’s just fine, you tune it out, it’s no big deal… but then if and when someone actually shuts the darn whoosher off, your whole body relaxes, and you realize how annoying it was. I’m still waiting for someone to hit the off-switch…

Now, I don’t want to pretend that I’ve reached some peace with this, some equilibrium, and that’s why I’m talking about it. Sadly, that’s not it. I am quite terrified speaking about this right now. I haven’t won this fight; I’m wrestling with it RIGHT NOW - Remember, Yisrael, means “one who wrestles with God.” I’m not sure it’s EVER meant to end… I feel overweight all the time. I am not ready to say “fat” just yet; it feels too mean, too unkind, too judgmental. But I have tremendous awe and respect for public figures who own that word, who wear it proudly. Like Lindy West, an incredible journalist, activist, and comedian, who is a contributor to This American Life, a feminist, and a leader in the fat acceptance movement. West speaks bluntly about a struggle that is VERY real for me, and I was recently reading an incredible article of hers in The Guardian from 2017, entitled “I’m not going to answerthe same question about being fat any more.”

West writes: “The most salient thing I have learned over my past six years as a public fat woman... is that everybody is in pain. We all suffer from this hierarchy of bodies. The people lashing out and the people pleading for help exist on the same spectrum. So when fat activists fight to destroy that hierarchy, we are fighting for you, even if you hate us.” I must admit, it’s a fine line, accepting and loving yourself and STILL wanting to change. West has let go of that second half. I’m not there yet. I haven’t found a path down the middle, but I AM searching desperately. In the meantime, I’m in a lot of pain.

I don’t know if this topic resonates with you. Maybe this isn’t your issue at all, not even a little. But I began this sermon series, back on Rosh Hashanah, emphasizing the importance of seeing our privilege, and being sensitive to others who are disadvantaged by it. This IS actually a societal problem, as well as a personal one, so a little Radical Honesty is needed here too. Not too long ago, when Governor Chris Christie of New Jersey was a public figure, he was often the target of A LOT of criticism. I’m not going to speak to whether I was a supporter or critic of his, but I DO want to say that perhaps AS often as people spoke about his politics, they talked about his weight. Maybe more than his politics. Jokes about overeating, size, clothing, restaurants, fitting, making room; it was painful to hear. Even as racist jokes and misogynist cracks and anti-Semitic slurs are publicly criticized (though we all know they DO, very much, still exist…), humor directed at fat people seems untouchable; still entirely socially acceptable.

And yet, this sermon is not actually meant to be all about weight and body image. It is, at its core, about vulnerability. I’ve tried to offer a sound byte from each of my sermons, either explicitly or just by repeating it a few times. We started with “If you aren’t aware of a disadvantage, you’re probably the beneficiary of it.” And I wonder how many people here were really, fully conscious of bias against people who are overweight? My Second Day sound byte was “Truth and Fact are not synonyms.” And last night, I didn’t specifically offer a quote to remember, but I might articulate it as, “We have to name our fears, AND tell our own stories.” Today, I simply want to say, “Being vulnerable is hard… but necessary.” Yom Kippur really tries to strip away our defences. We fast, and I think every year I’m amazed at how irritable, exhausted, sluggish, and lethargic all of us become… after not even ONE, whole day! It reminds us of our human frailty; we are not machines, we cannot push ourselves infinitely. Then we also pray for hours on end, not because we keep adding new sentiments, but really to wear away our resistance, and force us to be HONEST and real with ourselves and with one another.

As the day begins to wane, we add a pretty interesting ingredient to this mixture. If you come back after our midday break, around 3:45 p.m., we will not only conduct the Mincha, afternoon service, but we also read the Book of Jonah. If you know anything about that particular Biblical book, you probably recall the whale, or big fish, that swallows Jonah whole and then spits him back out. First of all, I firmly maintain that the big fish is the LEAST interesting thing in that whole book! Nearly everything else is worth discussing, has nuance and different levels, and the fish is just a special effect, and kind of a low-budget one at that. No, let’s talk about something else. When he’s first introduced to us, we learn that Jonah’s full name is Yonah ben Amitai. Which might, indeed, mean that his father’s name was Amitai; that’s how Hebrew names work. But, it is also perhaps interesting that the word “Amitai” comes from a Hebrew root you now know quite well, namely “Emet,” our theme word for the holidays. So we can also read his name as meaning “Jonah, the Truth Guy,” or perhaps more poetically, “Jonah, the Truth Seeker.” And indeed, that is just who we discover him to be.

In short, Jonah is sent to a great city, Nineve, capital of the Assyrian Empire, where God wants him to prophecy that the people should repent and change their ways, or the city will be annihilated in 3 days. Ok, now, spoiler alert (if you don’t want me to ruin the ending because you’re coming back this afternoon, just cover your ears for a second…): The people repent, and the city is saved. Then, a plot twist: Jonah is furious! He didn’t want them to be saved; he felt they were bad people who deserved what was coming to them. Remember, Jonah is a Truth Seeker.

When he challenges God for accepting their repentance, he quotes a line we just discussed last night. “Adonai, Adonai, Eil Rachum v’Chanun.” The Thirteen Attributes of God! A central part of our liturgy. They speak about God being compassionate, kind, and loving, and Jonah essentially says to God, “I knew that verse, and I KNEW you would be forgiving if I spoke on their behalf.” And when he quotes that verse, Jonah only refers to half of it, he stops short right before which word? Emet. Subtly, he is saying, “You may be kind and compassionate, but you are NOT being honest!” Jonah’s top priority is honesty, even if it has to be brutal honesty that is unkind and definitely not vulnerable; that is just who he is.

Jonah has a defender, by the way. He is not alone in espousing this opinion. A few centuries later, just after the year zero, two of our greatest teachers, Hillel and Shammai, were each the heads of a school. In the Babylonian Talmud, in a tractate (or volume) called Ketubot, a question is posed: “What do you say to a bride at her wedding?” Beit Hillel - the house or school of Hillel - responds, “You tell her she’s beautiful.” There’s no question about it. Every bride is beautiful on her wedding day; the most important Jewish value is to speak words of kindness and generosity, NO ONE wants to hear anything else at this moment. Beit Shammai, however, says: “You describe the bride as she is.” When Beit Hillel tries to protest, Beit Shammai retorts, “If she were lame or blind, would you still say of her, ‘she is a beautiful and graceful bride’?? Does it not say in Exodus 23:7: ‘Keep far from a false matter’?” Like the prophet Jonah, Shammai is a Truth Guy. What kind of a society would we have if we lied??? No white lies, no softened truths, just give it to me straight, doc. Just the facts, ma’am; just the facts.

Of course, you might say, “Well, Rabbi Gerber, surely you agree then! Your theme, after all, is ‘Radical Honesty’!” Are you not a “Truth Guy” as well?? But even in my first sermon, I made a distinction between Radical Honesty and Brutal Honesty. If you have to be unkind and cruel, that is NOT Radical Honesty. And I was also emphatic about the difference between Fact and Truth. Jonah wanted to list all the crimes of Nineve and let that determine whether they should be punished or not. JUST the facts. And Shammai wasn’t interested in anyone’s opinion, or whether it was a cruel thing to say; JUST the facts. I know it sounds like an extreme position, but I actually think we see it around us all the time. Rather than open our hearts, internalize someone else’s story, be vulnerable ourselves, and form deeper relationships, it’s easier to simply judge and stereotype. Tell one, simple story, and ignore the true complexity that may be just under the surface. Being vulnerable IS hard… but it is also extremely important.

To some of you, it may seem crazy that I talked about being overweight, about having an eating disorder. It may even seem cruel, even though I’m doing it to myself... because we certainly CAN be cruel to ourselves. Sometimes even MORE ruthless than anyone else ever would. You might say, I’m being TOO honest, perhaps even brutally honest! We don’t need to know this! It’s ok!! Well, I am sorry if this is uncomfortable, but it IS my truth, and I am trying to challenge you to share yours as well. I told you on Rosh Hashanah that I was going to push you; well, this is it! Not just for these High Holiday sermons, not just until the final shofar blast this evening, but all the time. To paraphrase Lindy West, when I’m trying to tear down these barriers, I’m fighting for you, even if you don’t want to hear it. These conversations cannot stop here, cannot end when we’ve got food back in our stomachs. This year, Rabbi Miller and I are going to hold a second Death Cafe, an evening of discussion around a topic that is SO hard for many people to talk about. Death is a paralyzing fear for a lot of you, but we need to NAME it, and form more stories around it to process those fears.

I also hope to invite Men’s Club members to join me for yet another conversation about our role in the #MeToo movement and the changing way society views masculinity. If you’re not sure what I’m talking about, or don’t agree a change is coming, please Google a commercial for a company called Bonobos, that uses the hashtag #EvolveTheDefinition, or the shaving company Harry’s that has a commercial called “A Man Like You,” which insists there’s no one way to be a man. This is no longer your grandfather’s masculinity…. I was also watching Comedy Central’s “The Daily Show” with Trevor Noah, and he was speaking to another writer and activist, Darnell Moore, who said, “society has to let go of our deep, deep, deep, deep desire - attraction! - to the toxicity that is masculinity... get rid of that!” I hope we are ready to discuss this toxicity with Ohev’s Men’s Club…

So what do YOU want to talk about? These tough subjects shouldn’t all begin with me. Do we need another conversation about addiction in the Jewish community? Focusing, perhaps, on how we all are affected by the opioid crisis in this country? Or maybe we need to revisit our conversations with the Presbyterian churches about Israel and Palestine? I want to have these conversations with you, and so many more, just as long as we are talking, and as long as we are being Radically Honest.

Let me share one other reflection with you: Some of you may be familiar with the writer and journalist, Malcolm Gladwell. He’s written books like “The Tipping Point,” “Outliers,” and “David and Goliath.” He also hosts a podcast, an audio show you can download to your smartphone, called “Revisionist History.” I LOVE “Revisionist History.” It’s fascinating, thought-provoking, blunt, and sometimes radically honest… possibly bordering on brutally honest. Let’s just say, he has an episode about golf that I know a lot of people here would not like. Malcolm Gladwell hates golf… Anyway, Gladwell’s latest episode, the finale of Season Three, is called “Analysis, Parapraxis,Elvis.” Again, I’m going to ask for a little trust here; you may not see where I’m going with this.

Gladwell begins by talking about a phenomenon called “parapraxis.” You might know it by another name, The Freudian Slip. This occurs when you accidentally say the wrong word, but on a deeper level, subconsciously, it’s actually precisely what you MEANT to say. Like a man who has had a lot of health issues, and the doctor prescribes him yet another expensive medication, and the man says, “Please, doctor, don’t give me any more BILLS, I can’t swallow them!” Or the famous quip: “A Freudian Slip is when you meant to say one thing, but you accidentally say ‘your mother.’” That’s parapraxis. Malcolm Gladwell then talks about Elvis Presley, and his song “AreYou Lonesome Tonight.” It’s one of his most famous songs, but it’s also a fascinating example of parapraxis. Apparently, Elvis could never quite get through the song without messing up. I mean, like, EVER! He couldn’t get the words right.

There are versions where he’s laughing hysterically, almost maniacally, then other times he’s crying or just speaking gibberish. And Elvis Presley was otherwise known for recalling massive amounts of music by heart. It was a block, a mental barrier. Gladwell talks about Elvis’ mother, his wife, Priscilla, and a lot of his struggles, and somehow this song, “Are you Lonesome Tonight,” became a symbol of all of that. His inability to remember the words was another form of parapraxis. The subconscious is just too overpowering… Gladwell then interviews a country singer named Casey Bowls who wrote a song about HER mother, and sure enough, she too can never quite get through it without making mistakes. I’m not doing the episode justice; it’s worth listening to, if you’re interested. But ultimately, Malcolm Gladwell gets to his crescendo, and it will help me arrive at mine:

These mistakes appear embarrassing. They seem like disastrous errors, and surely the ideal would be to get through a performance flawlessly, perfectly. No, says Gladwell. “Parapraxis is a gift. It is a window on our pain. Mistakes reveal our vulnerabilities. They are the way the world understands us; the way performers make their performances real.” Our entire society is geared towards NOT making mistakes, NOT crying, NOT breaking down, and certainly NOT showing vulnerability. But as a result, we have addictions, we have anger issues, we struggle in relationships with family, spouses, and friends, AND we have eating disorders. It’s NOT all fine. We are NOT fine.

Something needs to give… but again, it’s a fine line, a tough and narrow path to walk. We should be kind to ourselves, compassionate, and forgiving, BUT we also need to be Radically Honest. Gladwell concludes by pointing out how we judge one another for mistakes. We criticize any public mistakes really, but for our purposes we might mention being overweight, or being blind to our privilege, or not being religious or observant enough. Says Gladwell: “The easiest thing in the world is to look at those mistakes and condemn. The much harder thing is to look at those mistakes and understand.” My dear Ohev Shalom family, do not obsess over the facts. It’s easy to put two and two together and let the facts guide your opinion. But that will blind you; it’s too extreme! It might lead you to say some pretty harsh things to a bride or condemn an entire city - or perhaps, these days, an entire religion - without really seeing a deeper truth.

A new year is beginning. Do not miss this opportunity. This is OUR “Torat Emet,” our Torah of Truth; our Instruction, Teaching, Heritage, and Creed. hThe easiest thing in the world is to nod your head, beat your chest, and then, tonight, go have a bagel and forget the whole thing. It is much harder to resolve to change, and then stay committed to it. Our Torat Emet reminds us to examine our privilege, search for genuine truths hiding behind endless facts, and strive to be more vulnerable, more kind, and radically (but not brutally!) honest. To me, THAT is what it means to genuinely and lovingly search for truth. That is how we can all become ben, or bat, or mi’beit Amitai - Seekers of Truth. The search continues, our journey continues. But I feel blessed and honored to share this journey with all of you.

Shanah Tovah!

High Holidays 5779 - Yom Kippur Intro to the Torah Reading

Posted below is my introduction to the Torah reading (and Haftarah) on Yom Kippur morning. To read additional sermons from this year's holidays, go to the drop-down list on the right hand side of the screen. Or from the main page, you can keep scrolling down. Thanks!

YK Torah Intro 5779

Shanah Tovah!

Do you ever think about whether we, human beings, have free choice? And if you have, did you ever think about this eternal, vexing, complicated question using the metaphor of a vending machine? I have... But let’s come back to that.

A couple of months ago, in the middle of the summer, I was sitting by our community pool over on Putnam Blvd, not too far from here. The pool is never all that crowded. Even though quite a few residences have access to the pool, it seems to be a pretty similar cast of characters there all summer long. So on this one particular day, one of the regulars, a guy who I see there all the time, comes over while I’m giving my son, Max, a snack, and asks if he can pose a question to me. I, of course, say sure.

His question is, do we have free will? Is everything predetermined, do humans have no control over what they are going to do, and if so, why do we exist? You know, standard sit-around-the-pool-and-chat kind of a topic.

I’ll tell you how I answered him in a minute. But first, an ancient reference and a modern one.

If you’ve been reading my blog, Take on Torah, for the past year, you know that I’ve spent a whole cycle focusing on the Haftarah readings, rather than the Torah portion. After writing about 450 blog posts in nine years, I needed a change. As that year now draws to a close, I will be returning to looking at the Torah readings (mainly), but I still have another couple of weeks until Simchat Torah, when we start the Torah all over again, so today I want to focus on the Haftarah.

You see, our Torah reading is dull. It’s about ancient sacrifices, purification rituals, and some really riveting stuff about sacred tunics, incense, and sprinkling blood on an altar. Our Haftarah, however, from the prophet Isaiah, has God promising to bring the Jews back to their land. Having seen the Babylonian Empire decimate our homeland, then get dragged into slavery, THEN have the Persian Empire wipe out the Babylonian one and allow us to return home, the people are a little traumatized.

Isaiah says “let’s go back. Let’s rebuild!” And as incentive, God says (through Isaiah), “If you honor Shabbat and do not go your own ways, THEN you can seek and receive God’s favor.” (58:13-14) The key word here is “IF.” You have a choice. You ALWAYS have a choice. But there are repercussions and consequences of your actions. If you do x, God will reward you; if you do y, punishments await. It might not be a fun choice, but it is, still, a choice.

Yesterday, I used an image from the wizarding world of Harry Potter to make my point in my Kol Nidrei D’var Torah. Admittedly, that was weird. Not a source you expect to hear in synagogue, least of all on Yom Kippur. SO, naturally, I’m going to step back into Mr. Potter’s world once again. I promise, this is the last reference.

Harry goes to a school called Hogwarts. At Hogwarts, there are four houses, and every student belongs to just one house for their entire time at school. All students are sorted into houses on their very first day. Two of the schools, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, seem really lovely; but they essentially don’t matter. Then there’s Gryffindor, the good guys, and Slytherin, the bad guys. I’m summarizing, but essentially that’s it.

On Harry Potter’s first day, he puts on this magical Sorting Hat which will declare aloud which house will be his, and the hat, suddenly, seems stumped. Inside the hat, we hear it speaking to Harry, telling him that he could be immensely powerful in Slytherin. He could be wealthy, successful, and it would suit his personality quite well. But Harry whispers to himself, “Please, NOT Slytherin.” The hat hears him, and at the last second declares that Harry should go to Gryffindor.

Why am I telling you this? This decision haunts Harry. Right now, I am reading the THIRD book with my daughter, Caroline, having just finished the second one a week ago. At the end of that second book, wracked with guilt and shame, Harry tells the headmaster that the hat wanted to put him in Slytherin. The only reason it didn’t, is because he asked it not to.

Then the headmaster, Dumbledore, offers Harry this retort, which I submit to you fits our Torah reading, our Haftarah text from Isaiah, and even as a good reply to my neighbor on a beach chair by the pool. He says, “It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”

I think that free will is like a vending machine. When I step up to it with my dollar bill, I believe that God ALREADY knows that I am going to choose Root Beer and not Mountain Dew. God knows all along, has always known, and will always know every one of our decisions. But I don’t know. (Well, in this case, Mountain Dew is gross, so the choice is easy…) God may know everything I am going to do, but because I don’t, it is still MY choice.

Isaiah is telling the Israelites, God is NOT guaranteeing you favor. IF you are loyal, it will go well, but you STILL have a choice. IF we offer those prescribed sacrifices, IF we honor Shabbat and Yom Kippur, then we can ask for favor and hope for success. But God doesn’t owe us these gifts.

We still have to make choices. Every day of our lives, we have to make choices. I love Dumbledore’s response to Harry Potter. Sure, you’ve got great abilities, and yeah, you’ve got a riveting story. But what defines you is what you CHOOSE to do with your life. No one can dictate it for you. Maybe God, but God is the one saying YOU get to decide!!

Not only do you GET to decide… you HAVE TO decide. We cannot live life without making choices; even if, and perhaps especially when, they define us.

So THAT is my answer. Sort of. I suppose one could argue, did I therefore say that there IS free will or there ISN’T? I’ll let you CHOOSE to interpret my answer however you like.

Our Torah reading for this morning begins on page 278. The Book of Leviticus, chapter 16, verse 1.

High Holidays 5779 - Kol Nidrei

Posted below is my sermon for Kol Nidrei (the evening service that begins Yom Kippur). To read additional sermons from this year's holidays, go to the drop-down list on the right hand side of the screen. Or from the main page, you can keep scrolling down. Thanks!

Kol Nidrei 5779 - Main Sermon

Shanah Tovah. 

“Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.” I love that quote. I don’t exactly know why, and I’m not quite certain why it’s stuck with me through SEVEN books, even though it’s from the end of Book One, but when the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore, uttered that line to Harry Potter, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I know it seems a little silly to begin there, but last week, on Rosh Hashanah, I reminded you that you trust me… even when you don’t see where I’m going with things, so I’m going to ask for a little of that trust here tonight. This D’var Torah will NOT be all about Harry Potter...

One of the most wonderful things I’ve had the joy of doing in just the last few months is to re-read the Harry Potter series. This time, my nearly-six year old daughter, Caroline, sits next to me; sometimes listening intently, sometimes shouting responses to the characters or asking questions right in the middle of a sentence. She hides her face when it gets too scary, and for some reason she keeps mixing up Hagrid and Dumbledore. Last week, we started the THIRD book, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I read them on my own many years ago, and through all seven books - through all the adventures and twists, spells and Quidditch matches - one thing that always fascinated me was J.K. Rowling’s emphasis on the name of the main bad-guy, Lord Voldemort. Sorry, You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. 

In the entire wizarding world, only two people seem to feel confident saying his name; Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore. In Book One, whenever Harry says the name, everyone else cringes and cowers. Then, towards the end of the book, he accidentally says it in front of Dumbledore, apologizes, and corrects himself to say “You-Know-Who.” That’s when Dumbledore says to him: “Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.” 

God is a little bit like Lord Voldemort. Ok, I realize that’s a crazy sound byte, and I would like to think it SHOULD be the exact opposite. I want to believe that Lord Voldemort is evil incarnate, at the far end of one side of the spectrum, while God is everything good in the world at the other end. But here we are, on Kol Nidrei, and if we’re being HONEST - and many of you know my theme this year is, indeed, “Radical Honesty” - underlying our service here tonight is A LOT of fear. We may not subscribe to it personally, but our prayers emphasize God’s Book of Life, in which we all hope to see our names written. We pray fervently, so we won’t die in the year ahead. A hard truth to look at, I know, but it is a VERY present theme on Yom Kippur. 

In Hebrew, we call the days from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur “Yamim Noraim,” and translate that as “Days of Awe.” Peter Koelle always rolls his eyes when I say that, and he tries to correct me. Because he’s right! It IS an awful translation. “Yamim Noraim” really means “Terrifying Days” or “Days of Fear.” Incredibly, I could NOT find a literal translation online! Every Jewish website, even every dictionary website, just wrote “Days of Awe” as the “literal” translation. Exasperated, I went to Google Translate and wrote the word “Noraim” by itself, and sure enough, the translations were “terrifying, frightful, dire, dread, shocking, [even] hellish!” “Ah,” I though. Finally an HONEST translation. So I added the word “Yamim” for “Days” to see what Google Translate would now say. Wouldn't you know it: “High Holy Days.” Oy. We are so fearful of the word “fear,” that we cannot even say IT out loud. 

I don’t WANT us to think of God this way… but we do. Many of you have heard me rail about “g-d,” and Rabbi Miller can tell you I feel WAY too strongly about this. The word “God” is not God’s Name, and it’s anyway in the wrong language. But we write g-d like we write You-Know-Who; we can’t bear to get too close. It’s supposed to be out of respect, I know, but really we’re just moving further and further away from God. 

Names are SO important. As many of you also know, I have an affinity for names. I wish I could teach it to others, but that’s hard to do. I do sometimes think of it as a super-power I’m very fortunate to have. I’ve seen people in services just once, then they’ve showed up again a year (or more) later, and for some odd reason, their name just pops back into my head. But in truth, I HAVE also worked hard to cultivate it over the years. On Rosh Hashanah, I promised you I’d reveal some of my secrets; well, here they are!

If I’m sitting in a meeting with people I don’t know, when we go around and introduce ourselves, I draw a little table on a piece of paper and write in everyone’s names next to where they’re sitting. Or even like this, during services, I may quickly scan a section and just say your names in my head. Sure, it’s one extra thing to think about, but again, names are SO important. On occasion, I’ve employed an accomplice. I may ask a friend to introduce themselves first, so I can hear someone’s name. So yeah, there are a few tricks of the trade… And I’ve come to realize, over the years, just how crucial this is. If you stop into Ohev’s office during the year, and I know who you are, it may make you feel like you belong, EVEN if you aren’t here so often. When we process around with the Torah scrolls on the High Holidays, I try to say every name I know out loud, because even though this may not be true for everyone, I know that some people may feel, “Ah, I DO matter, I am seen, this IS my congregation, because the rabbi knows me.” And I genuinely feel I do. Names are important. If I point over there and invite our president, ANNIE, to say a few words, or ask our first vp, JOHN, to stand up, for a brief second they may feel a twinge of discomfort, even pain, feeling unseen because I seemingly “forgot” their names are Amy and… I want to say, Jim?

Knowing someone’s name can create intimacy. And having an intimate name for someone can increase that further still. In an article for Scientific American, entitled “Why Do We Use Pet Names in Relationships?”, author Elizabeth Landau examines the use of nicknames and terms of endearment in relationship. Among other findings, she quotes one researcher as saying, “With increasingly public lives, an intimate nickname between partners is all the more important for distinguishing the false intimacy of social media from the real intimacy of direct human relationships.” When we know someone’s name, our bond becomes REAL. So how come we don’t know God’s Name?

You may already be aware of this, but even when we DO say God’s Name in the Jewish tradition, we are using a place-holder! “Adonai” is what we say INSTEAD of pronouncing God’s actual Name. That name is spelled Yud-Hey-Vav-Hey, also known as the Tetragrammaton (from the Greek, meaning “THE Four Letters”), and we actually do not know how it should be pronounced. Perhaps something like Yahwe, or closer to Jehova, Yehoah. Only the High Priest in the Ancient Temple in Jerusalem ever said it, and even then only once a year… ON Yom Kippur! Tomorrow we will mimic that service, and Rabbi Miller is going to speak a little about The Tetragrammaton, God’s Holiest Name. But in light of all we’ve said so far, about names, it IS interesting that we don’t say God’s Name. That’s when it really feels a bit too much, for me, like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in Harry Potter. Why are we running away?

Last week, I also told you I’m illustrating my theme of “Radical Honesty” with a Hebrew word from our prayer book, the word “Emet,” meaning “Truth.” One instance that I find really fascinating comes right before the Shema prayer. It caught my eye, because it’s translated really poorly, which is always your first clue that it’s complex, and the translators just didn’t know how to convey it without it sounding awkward. The TRUE meaning was hard to sit with. As we gather the four corners of our Tallit and sing “Va-havieinu l’Shalom…” about God bringing us together from the four corners of the earth, we add the line, “v’Keiravtanu l’Shimcha ha-Gadol Selah b’EMET.” Our Lev Shalem editors took a stab at this one: “...always drawing us nearer to Your Name; that we may truly acknowledge You..” They move the word Emet over to go with the second half of the phrase, because otherwise it’s too awkward. Incidentally, I looked in our old Siddur, Sim Shalom, and they just left out the word “true” altogether. Didn’t even translate it! But you and I are being HONEST readers, right? I might therefore suggest something like “You have drawn us closer to Your Great Name THROUGH Truth.” “B’Emet.” The path into a closer relationship is through Names AND through Truth. Without truth and honesty, it is difficult to get close to something; it is hard to cultivate a bond.

Rabbi Miller and I were even discussing what might seem like a heretical idea, that as we’ve lost the pronunciation of God’s Name, and instead our rabbis have told us it’s TOO powerful, it’s too awesome and fearful - uttering the name could level mountains! - that we’ve grown apart from God, Adonai, Yahwe. And on this one day, on Yom Kippur, God invites us to utter The Name. Abraham Joshua Heschel (whom I think I’ve referred to nearly EVERY High Holidays…) wrote two books, “Man in Search of God,” and “God in Search of Man,” and here it is as if God is indeed searching for US! God wants desperately to be seen, to be known. All year long, we’re too afraid to even say the word “God,” so we insert a stupid dash; today, we see you, God. We feel the strength of our relationship, and we can be real and truthful with one another.

I have to be honest about something else: When you only come a couple of times a year, or when you only think of God ONE way, it’s hard to deepen and intensify that relationship. (For some, maybe that’s the point?) When we grapple with our texts and our Tradition, we see God as loving, vengeful, jealous, playful, comforting, stern, authoritarian, and kind. The answer to the TRUE nature of God is not one or the other… it’s all of the above. When we only have one narrative, one story, however, we can’t see any of that. The Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, whose book “Americanah” some of you may know, recorded a phenomenal TED talk on this very subject. If you’re not familiar with TED talks - Technology, Entertainment, Design - they are really worth looking up on YouTube. Adichie gave a TED talk entitled “The Danger of a Single Story.” She talks about how people in the West have only ONE image of Nigeria, or sometimes of all of Africa, and THAT, itself, is a symbol of power. There are so many stories of America - our movies, our music, our sports, our politics, our clothing, food, and everything else - that Americans don’t experience this particular danger. She states, “To insist on only negative stories is to flatten my experience, and to overlook the MANY stories that formed me.” Perhaps most importantly, she emphasizes how storytelling is tied to power; that those in power not only have many stories about them, like the United States on the world stage, but when you have power, you also get to tell someone else’s story. You control THEIR narrative as well.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie also says something that really, really stuck with me: “When you show a people as one thing, as ONLY one thing, over and over again… that is what they become.” I never realized it before, but in my work with people in Chester, THIS has been one of their chief complaints! We, in the suburbs, all have ONE story about Chester. About violence, gangs, drugs, and poverty. We reduce them to ONE THING, and not only is it false, not only is it demoralizing, but it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. As Jews, especially Jews living in the US in 2018, we don’t face this as much as we did for most of our history. But the stereotypes never go away fully, do they? Money-grubbing, bank-controlling, world-conspiracy-creating Jews, ruining the world. Even Adichie admits in her talk that she knew only ONE story about Mexicans when she went there for a visit, and was embarrassed and ashamed when she realized how untrue, and certainly incomplete that picture was. We do this to God, when we only focus on the story of the Binding of Isaac or verses like “Eye for an Eye, Tooth for a Tooth.” We say the Bible hates gay people and prohibits abortion, when the texts are AT BEST unclear about these things, and more often tell nuanced stories with many layers and facets.

So let’s look at Ohev Shalom. What is our story, as a community? Well, for one thing, it is NOT one, single story. Some people here have been members for the better part of a century, others walked through those doors tonight for the very first time. We are single, married, divorced, widowed, gay, straight, young,…. less-young, male, female, trans, cis, Jewish, not Jewish, atheist, Caucasian, Latinx, African-American, light-skinned, dark-skinned, and so much more. If we are being radically honest, we do a pretty good job of including everyone… BUT we could do better. And the challenge here, much like what I spoke about on Rosh Hashanah, is that we have blind spots to other people’s experiences. We don’t always realize when we’re minimizing another or making them feel invisible, so we need to be open to critique and challenge ourselves to see things in a new way. Let me give you a couple of examples:

Bathroom signage. We have male bathrooms and female bathrooms. But for some, this is forcing a choice and a statement that they don’t want to make. If you’ve never thought about this, or at least never struggled with it, you CANNOT minimize its importance. You simply DON’T know! I’ve spoken to leadership about ways to modify our signage, and it has made some people uneasy. “What about MY discomfort? Why do I have to change?” Well, this is the crux of it, isn’t it? It’s all well and good when all we have to do is LISTEN to someone else’s story. That kind of inclusion is great for most people. Why? Because it’s an easy lift. It doesn’t inconvenience you or make you change anything about yourself. If, however, we are trying to genuinely include others, TRULY and HONESTLY make room for someone else’s story, it IS going to be hard! You ARE going to be uncomfortable! And if you’ve never previously been uneasy walking into a bathroom, never been unsure if you were “allowed” in there… maybe it IS your turn? I’m not certain what it’s going to look like, but I AM pushing leadership to change our signage. They won’t both be unisex bathrooms - at least not yet - but we can make room for this change, don’t you think? Our hearts - and our restrooms - are big enough; I’m sure of it.

Along a similar line, you may never have realized this, but when you are called up to the Torah for an honor, we are declaring to the world that you are a woman or a man. The Gabbai calling you up for your aliyah calls out “Ya’amod,” meaning “please rise,” but specifically for a man, or “Ta’amod,” specifically for a woman. Around the progressive Jewish world, there is now a call to shift this ritual to something else. One suggestion is “Na La’amod,” meaning “please rise” in a general sense, with no gender indicated. We’re going to try this tomorrow. Annie - I’m sorry, I mean “Amy” - is going to be our Gabbai, and she has agreed to try this out. It’s different. It’s weird. It’s not what we’re USED TO. And it’s important. 

Names are important; titles are significant… and our stories are essential to who we are. As we spend the whole day of Yom Kippur trying to know God a little bit better, one prayer in particular encapsulates this for us. It’s referred to as the Thirteen Attributes of God, or you may know it as, “Adonai, Adonai, Eil Rachum v’Chanun…” In THIS story of God, again it’s just one story among many, we emphasize God’s characteristics of kindness and goodness. Twelve of the thirteen are almost synonyms of one another, “Rachum, Chanun, Erech Apayim, Rav Chesed, Noseh Avon, Nakeh” - Merciful, Compassionate, Patient, Abounding in Love, Forgiving Sin, Granting Pardon. All are about kindness and forgiveness… except one. Right in the middle, we have the one odd-trait-out; any guesses? Emet. When we see all of God’s goodness, when we wrestle with all of God’s punishments and chastisements, when we aspire to connect to God more fully… we need to incorporate a TRUE understanding as well. One that is open, vulnerable, humble enough to know it is incomplete, willing to be challenged, and radically honest.

Before I conclude this D’var Torah about names, stories, labels, relationships, and vulnerability, I want to fulfill a promise. On Rosh Hashanah, I told you my topic for this sermon, and I mentioned something painful. To illustrate my point about the importance of names AND of knowing people’s stories, I want to put myself out there, and share perhaps my worst experience as your rabbi. My most cringeworthy encounter. It was so bad, in fact, that when they left the congregation - and they DID leave because of my bungling - they told Bonnie Breit what had happened, and she could NOT believe it was true. She came and asked me, and I had to say, “yes! It’s horrible… and it’s true.” Even though they left, I am changing their names for this story: I’m going to dip into my Swedish heritage, so I don’t use anyone’s name here; let’s call this couple Sven and Ingrid. Deep breath.

They weren’t Ohev members for very long, but they did come semi-regularly on Friday nights. For some reason, their names just wouldn’t stick in my head. Most other people’s did, but I had to keep reminding myself who they were, and I simply don’t know why. I also had trouble retaining their story. Ingrid had shared it with me, but it JUST wouldn’t take. There were a couple of minor uncomfortable incidents, but then there was The Big One. One Friday night, we had eight Jewish congregants in the chapel and this couple. For some reason, I had told myself Sven was not Jewish. Meaning we only had nine, and thus no minyan. In the middle of the service, when everyone was meant to stand for the Barechu, I counted again to make sure and told everyone to be seated. Not only did someone question whether we had minyan, but it was Sven! HE asked if we didn’t have ten? THAT should have been my clue! I got it wrong. If the man is asking whether we have a minyan, he’s probably Jewish!! Cut your losses, give him the benefit of the doubt, and move on. Say you miscounted. Laugh it off. But no; young(er) Rabbi Gerber, determined to contract foot-in-mouth-disease, stepped into that awkward silence and said - in front of everyone, “Sven… are you Jewish?” To which, of course, he replied “yes,” and I tried to quickly move on. It didn’t matter; the damage was done. 

What I wouldn’t have given to take that back. To perhaps have one of those Time Turners that Hermione Granger used in the third Harry Potter book. I would only have needed to jump back fifteen minutes in time! But no such luck. The next time I saw them, I apologized profusely again. We met in my office, and I tried to ask how I could make it right, but it was simply too late. I had not seen them. I had forgotten their story, I had trampled on their experience, and Ingrid in particular could NOT move past it.

The point here is NOT to scrutinize this story endlessly; there were indeed lots of factors at play. It’s really not about the specifics, but I am mentioning it here for two main reasons: One, to share my vulnerability. I remember a lot of names and a lot of stories; but I mess up sometimes. And epically so. I hope you therefore feel you can make mistakes as well. And two, I feel it illustrates the importance of being known and seen. That experience was painful, to be sure, but it DID also help me grow. Sometimes (often?) we cannot grow without being uncomfortable. 
We cannot evolve without humbly stepping outside our own experience, and pushing ourselves to see things in new ways. 

One easy (or easiER) change is to stop thinking of God like Lord Voldemort. We are not talking about He Who Must Not Be Named; this is not The Dark Lord Himself. I promise you. It is God with an o; Yahwe, whose name we cannot pronounce, but who yearns for a relationship with us and is filled with compassion, makes mistakes some of the time, and is - at the core - all about Truth. Adonai is not an evil wizard! More challenging, perhaps, is to listen to other people’s stories, acknowledge that making room for them WILL mean pushing ourselves to be uncomfortable and contract ourselves and our own egos a fair amount, and that we need to constantly and consistently shape and reshape our community to be its best self. No matter how many stories we encapsulate, there is always room for more.

When we are afraid, or even uncomfortable, awkward, or worried we just said the absolute wrong thing - we step away. We will do any, any, ANY thing we can do to get as far from these horrible feelings as possible. But that’s actually just going to make it worse. We have to NAME our fears, we have to NAME our relationships, and we have to NAME our experiences of ourselves, our world, and our God. If we can’t use the names, then like Professor Albus Dumbledore said, the fear of the thing itself will only increase. Names are important. Speaking them out loud, honestly and truly, can help us overcome even our worst fears. Then, perhaps, we can tell our OWN stories, and not let others tell them for us. And THAT is true magical power indeed.

Shanah Tovah!

High Holidays 5779 - Rosh Hashanah, Day Two

Posted below is my main sermon for the morning of Rosh Hashanah, Day Two. To read additional sermons from this year's holidays, go to the drop-down list on the right hand side of the screen. Or from the main page, you can keep scrolling down. Thanks!

Rosh Hashanah 5779 - Day 2, Main Sermon

Shanah Tovah!

I have to tell you, perfect faith is just the greatest. Man, it is SO easy. You just KNOW, you know? No doubts, no questions, no messiness... no problem. Just perfect, unflinching, impenetrable, rock-solid FAITH. Yesterday, I told you that my theme for this year, for all my main High Holiday sermons, is Radical Honesty. So... I should probably share with you that I, your rabbi, your spiritual leader here at Ohev Shalom, most definitely do NOT have perfect faith. I have FAITH. I feel, deep inside me, that there is a God, and I honestly always have. I distinctly remember being a child, walking along a dirt road at the Jewish summer camp, Glämsta, outside Stockholm, and the question of whether God is real just popped into my head.

I recall, so clearly, asking “Do YOU exist?” Even then, right there on that Swedish island, I knew that because I was in dialogue WITH God, not asking about the existence of a Deity to no one in particular, that I had faith. And that part of my beliefs has remained in tact... but it ain’t perfect. I grapple with it. All the time, in fact. My faith IS “Yisrael.” The verb, not the noun, Yisrael literally means “One who wrestles with God”! It is our very name!! My theology is FILLED with doubt, endless questions, and messiness like you wouldn’t believe. It’s not perfect… but it is TRUE.

Yesterday, I also told you that a key word for us this year is “Emet,” the word for “truth” in Hebrew. I shared with you that Emet features heavily in the Shacharit service, the morning prayers, where it actually functions as a powerful link, joining together the Shema and Amidah prayers. Well, Emet pops up in other places too. A few days ago, I was bouncing sermon ideas off Rabbi Miller, who - by the way - is just a fabulous chevruta, a partner for study, discussion, and all manner of rabbi-nerding-out. (If you haven’t seen us since last High Holidays, you might have missed that she had a second child, Ezra, and was out on maternity leave. But believe me, those of us who with her every day DEFINITELY felt her absence! And it is SO NICE to have her back!!) Anyway, Rabbi Miller reminded me of two terrific instances of Emet that I need to bring in to this sermon, as well as a third that, by virtue of not being Hebrew, I want to “save” for a bit later… but believe me, it adds a significant punch, and hopefully a bit of a shofar-blast-of-a-wake-up to our conversation.

As I mentioned at the start of this sermon, perfect faith is just great. So much so, in fact, that our great ancestor, Maimonides, the Rambam, who lived over 800 years ago, put together a helpful list of THE Principles of Jewish Faith. That list could really help us all hone in on what Jews believe, and what they SHOULD believe. Very practical. And, when Rambam proposed his list, lo those many centuries ago, it was resoundingly rejected! Why? Because we simply are NOT a religion that mandates faith. Even the great Rambam couldn’t force Jews to agree on what we believe; talk about your Yisrael, wrestling not only with God, but with anyone who tries to pin down our thoughts! But in honor of Maimonides’ great stature, his principles WERE included in our prayers… just at the VERY end, preserved as a little ditty with no ritual, halachic status, known as Yigdal. So kind of an honor, but also kind of a slight (or as the millenials would say: the rabbis threw some shade on Maimonides…).

In Yigdal, included in Rambam’s perfect-faith-checklist, our noted ancestor declares, “Torat EMET natan l’amo.” God gave us a Torah of TRUTH. And this same phrase is echoed again in the closing blessing that each of our Torah honorees recited after their aliyah this morning: “Asher natan lanu Torat Emet…” So what is a “Torah of Truth”? Or THE Torah of Truth? And this, I feel, is REALLY a key question: Is truth just a synonym for fact? When we state that ours is a Torah of Truth, do we mean it’s 100% accurate, flawless, Divine, unquestionable, and perfect??? Is that what Torat Emet means? That would be nice, wouldn’t it? So easy. Don’t think; just follow all of it. Gotta love that perfect faith, right? Unfortunately, it most definitely is not. Truth and Fact are NOT synonyms. I am so certain of this, that I want it to be your sound byte for today. Please do not forget this when you leave here today: Truth and Fact are NOT synonyms. Our Torah is True… but it never ACTUALLY purports to be fact, it never claims to present statistics or science, and it most definitely does not represent all-encompassing, all-knowing, and unchangeable firm-and-cold-as-granite decrees.

Why do I say that so confidently? Because my theology won’t allow me to think of it any other way. I’m just speaking for me here; I’m not telling you what to believe. Let me add that second source (of three) that Rabbi Miller contributed; the Haftarah blessings. A few minutes before I began my sermon, Julie Silverstein chanted a beautiful Haftarah for us, as she’s done many, many times, and after the Haftarah text itself was over, Julie recited the traditional blessings that always follow. In there, she sang the phrase, “She-kol devarav EMET va’tzedek.” “ALL of God’s words are true AND just.” Everything we read in the Torah text, as well as in the Tanach, the entire Jewish Bible is BOTH entirely TRUE, AND it is filled with Tzedek, meaning compassion, kindness, justice, and righteousness. Well, if “true” means “fact,” we’ve got a problem.

If you read the text, and you don’t even honestly have to dig that deep, and you examine the commandments pronounced by the Biblical author, you find things like stoning a person to death for gathering sticks on Shabbat, forcing a woman who has been raped to marry her assailant, and killing an underaged child for disobeying his or her parents. If we’re being radically honest, these are the facts. In our Torah reading this morning, God unequivocally demanded that Abraham sacrifice - meaning murder - his own child as a sign of his faith. I’ll step out on a controversial limb here and say, I don’t like that story. That is NOT my faith. So if “true” means “fact,” and these are the facts of our Torah… it is NOT righteous, compassionate, and kind. It simply is NOT.

Now this, this moment right here, is precisely what to me is meant by “Yisrael.” This is us wrestling with God, grappling with our Torah, and kicking and shoving our Tradition and demanding that it stand up to our scrutiny - ‘True’ and ‘Fact’ and ‘Righteous’ simply do NOT all work here. One has got to give. So this is it! We are Yisrael right now, with God proverbially and definitely-not heretically trapped in a headlock!! And if we’re embodying Yisrael, the TRUE meaning of our name, let us also take on modern-day Yisrael, the land, the people, the state, and yes, the government of Israel.

Last year, I laid the groundwork for what I intend to say to you today. I want to double down on a phrase that I used a year ago, which a number of people found hard to hear. I said: “I love Israel… but right now it does NOT love me back.” A few people tried to comfort me, soothe me, and convince me I was wrong. They sent photos and video clips of thousands of people dancing on the Kotel plaza, or standing on the tarmac waiting to greet new immigrants just making aliyah to Israel for the very first time. Thousands upon thousands of smiling faces, singing and dancing. Embracing one another and welcoming new olim, new immigrants with open arms. “See!” my comforters declared. “Tangible proof that Israel does love you!” Indisputable facts…

My friends. My dear Ohev family. My beloved congregation… Israel does not love me back. And I say this as someone who in a matter of weeks will be taking 40 people to Israel! (... and who sincerely hopes no one backs out as a result of this speech; Alan Schapire would kill me!) This will be my third trip as your spiritual leader, and as your tour guide with a silly hat. I LOVE Israel. I need you to know that. Our upcoming trip is going south, to some of my most favorite places in Eretz Yisrael; Sde Boker (Ben Gurion’s kibbutz), Machtesh Ramon (the great crater), Kibbutz Keturah, and the Arava desert. I won’t stop going, I won’t stop loving our homeland… and yet I also need to be radically honest with you, and challenge you to be radically honest with me and with yourselves, and state truly that Israel does NOT currently love us in return.

I NEED you to hear some of the facts. We simply cannot turn a blind eye to these things and still claim to have a genuine - and true - relationship with Israel.

• A year ago, in September, 2017 - After a LONG negotiation, the Israeli government ultimately backed out of a deal regarding the creation of fair and equal prayer spaces by the Kotel, the Western Wall. Every month, women (and men) continue to this day to be attacked for praying. Some radical opponents go so far as to grab and throw the women’s Torah scroll to the ground, because they say it’s unclean in their hands. Instead of challenging the harassers, the police often do nothing to deescalate the violence, and have - on multiple occasions - arrested THE WOMEN for disturbing the peace.
• Last year also, in September, an article in the Israeli newspaper Haaretz indicated that almost 900 Israelis were added in 2015 and 2016 to the list of “unmarriageable” individuals, according to Israeli rabbinical court. These are people who were Jewish enough to become citizens, to be allowed to escape oppression in their countries of origin, but then, once they arrive, the orthodox courts scrutinized their status. In all cases, these were individuals who were previously registered as Jewish, but whom the courts then hounded and investigated, and ultimately decided to declare ‘unmarriageable,’ meaning they are no longer considered Jewish, possibly years after their arrival. Now, you might stop and think “900 individuals, that doesn’t sound THAT high.” However, from 1954, when the list was created, until 2014, only around 3,000 names had been added. So for 60 years it only grew to 3,000, then it jumped 22 percent in just the last two years!!
• I want to mention a couple of individual cases as well, that I find painful to discuss. In February of this year, it was reported that Israel continues to deny a student visa to a man named Yehuda Kimani, who is seeking to study at the Conservative Yeshiva in Jerusalem. Kimani, a Kenyan Jewish leader, was converted by the Conservative movement. Last December, he was detained at Ben-Gurion Airport and deported, despite having a valid visa signed personally by the Israeli ambassador to Nairobi. At the time, Amos Arbel, director of the Israeli Population Registry and Status Department reportedly said, "...to us, he is a goy from Kenya."
• I know it’s uncomfortable to discuss, but I need to stay with this unpleasant theme of the intersection of bias against non-orthodox groups and racist undertones. Just a few months ago, in June, Israel’s Interior Ministry rejected the aliyah application of Kibita Yosef, a member of the Abayudaya Jewish community of Uganda, currently in Israel as a volunteer on a kibbutz. This decision reverses over two decades of government policy that has conferred Jewish status for purposes of immigration and citizenship on those who convert abroad through a major Jewish movement. It is not only an affront to the Abayudaya, but also to the entire worldwide Conservative/Masorti movement.
• Over the summer, this oppression went even further. Two months ago, in July, a colleague of mine was arrested. Rabbi Dubi Haiyun isn’t just a fellow Conservative rabbi, I actually studied with Dubi in Israel in 2006. AND, when our Ohev Israel trip went to Haifa in 2011, we met with Dubi in his synagogue! Well, Rabbi Haiyun was awoken at 5:30 am by police pounding on his door, like some sting operation, and he was subsequently arrested for the "crime" of officiating at a wedding outside the authority of the Israeli ultra-Orthodox Chief Rabbinate. Rabbi Haiyun potentially faces two years in prison for officiating at this wedding. The non-orthodox world has loudly voiced its protestations, but the charges against Rabbi Haiyun have not yet been dropped.
• Over the summer, government officials also began stopping people at the airport - such as the journalist Peter Beinart and the philanthropist and activist Meyer Koplow - when their political beliefs did not align with the current government. These are not terrorists or people feared to be potentially aggressive or violent; they simply speak out when they don’t agree with something. They wrestle with injustice, and challenge the status quo… and Israel is saying ‘no more wrestling match. When you enter Ben Gurion airport, you adopt our perfect and flawless faith, or you can turn right around and leave.’
• And finally, I need to grapple briefly with the government’s declaration of a nation-state law, just a few weeks ago. In many ways, it was meant as just a reaffirmation of Zionist ideals: This is a Jewish state. The language is Hebrew. The calendar is the Jewish one. But it left out one crucial, vitally essential detail, namely proclaiming the equality of all citizens. “Israel is the homeland of the Jewish people, based on the foundations of freedom, justice and peace as envisioned by the prophets of Israel, and upholds equal rights for all its citizens” … is what it SHOULD have said. That is NOT the text of the law that ultimately passed. That was the proposal of Benny Begin, a member of Knesset who appealed to Netanyahu to say something - anything - to include the Druze, Arab-Israeli, Christian, Armenian, atheist, and all other groups for whom the designation ‘Jew’ just didn’t apply. To no avail. This new declaration, rammed through by a slim majority, says nothing about Jewish and Democratic values co-existing side by side.

    So, those are the facts. These are things that have occurred, and these are issues we cannot ignore. But I know they also do NOT reflect the larger TRUTH of what Israel is, and what she means to us. Again, Yisrael, we need to stay and wrestle with this. I have also come to realize that we can skew too far one way or the other, and both get us in trouble. If you ONLY look at the facts, you may judge Israel to be an oppressive regime, an apartheid state, a threat to world peace. And if you only honor your own truth about Israel, you defend her blindly, unwilling to consider the appalling actions of her government. You decry others who would raise these concerns as “self-hating Jews” and even - God forbid - kapos, referencing the Jews who did the Nazis’ bidding in the concentration camps. Both positions are extremes; both are missing the heart of what Israel stands for. One cannot survive without the other.

When Rabbi Miller and I were discussing our theme, Emet, she also brought in a third example, but this one is particularly interesting. On Saturday morning, we stand before the open Ark and sing together before taking out the Torah scrolls. The song is “Bei Ana Racheitz,” and in that paragraph, just before we sing, we read: “[we rely on] the God of Truth; whose Torah is true, whose prophets are true, and who abounds in deeds of goodness and truth.” However, what’s so unique about this paragraph is that it’s in Aramaic, an equally old language to Hebrew, that sometimes pops up in our prayers, like the Mourners’ Kaddish. Aramaic is also our language, and yet somehow it also represents otherness, since it’s really not spoken among Jews any longer. It symbolizes our ancient past, but also our reliance and partnership with other peoples around us, a FACT that has always been TRUE.

So in “Bei Ana Racheitz,” the word is not “Emet,” but rather the Aramaic, “Keshot.” My Talmudic dictionary, by Marcus Jastrow, reveals that this word comes from a root meaning “straight” or “to shoot forth,” and it can even mean “righteousness.” This, I think, makes sense to us, like the English expression, “Give it to me straight.”

It’s also a nice combination of two words we mentioned earlier, “Emet va’Tzedek,” truth and righteousness. Here, one word combines them both together. And this is ultimately where I want to end up:

We don’t need perfect faith. It’s not realistic, it’s not reflective of the world we know, or the history our people have lived. And if we hold it up as the ideal to which we must strive, we’re not only setting ourselves up for failure, we’re turning people away who know, deep in their bones, that some things are wrong. So let us instead set our eyes on some straight-talk, some Keshot. The facts of what is going on right now in Israel ARE troubling. But this doesn't have to be our whole truth; remember, Truth and Fact are NOT synonyms. And even when it hurts to hear - and believe me, it hurts even deeper to say - the reality is that Israel’s government and religious courts, through their actions, arrests, and abuses, are telling us loud and clear that they do NOT love us back.

Our wrestling match is not over. If you walk away because you’re too disillusioned or too sick of hearing the criticism, you’re abandoning this relationship that we so desperately need. So let’s instead engage in some radical honesty. Let’s talk about the love AND let’s talk about the pain. It’s not as simple as perfect faith, I’m not gonna lie. It’s harder. But that’s why we’re Yisrael, no? Our honest wrestling match continues, and oddly enough, the longer we wrestle, the more our relationship with Israel grows stronger and more resilient. I don’t have facts to back that up, but I do know one thing. I know it’s true.

Shanah Tovah!