tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50022375591722979142024-03-13T07:28:19.178-07:00Take On TorahA weekly journey into finding relevance and meaning in the Torah.Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.comBlogger678125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-39591824463675775942023-10-05T12:51:00.000-07:002023-10-05T12:51:01.229-07:00High Holidays 5784/2023<p>Dear all,</p><p>I wanted to share this year’s High Holiday sermons. Included below are YouTube videos of my sermons, which were delivered to Congregation Shaarey Torah in Canton, OH, where I was the visiting rabbi for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The texts of each sermon are available as well; just let me know if you’d like to read them.</p><p>For each of the videos below, you have to scroll ahead to find the sermons. The videos contain the FULL service for each holiday, so unless you want to watch 4 hours (!!), you will need to scroll ahead to the times I indicated below each video. Please let me know if you have any questions or concerns. Thanks!</p><p>Warmly,</p><p>Jeremy</p><p><br /></p><ol class="ol1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><li class="li1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 18.6px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18.55px;">RH1 (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/live/Z2eenZYhPNQ?feature=shared">https://www.youtube.com/live/Z2eenZYhPNQ?feature=shared</a>)</span></li><ol class="ol1"><li class="li1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 18.6px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18.55px;">Torah Intro - 1:00:45</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 18.6px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18.55px;">D’var Torah - 1:58:55</span></li></ol><li class="li1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 18.6px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18.55px;">RH2 (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/live/NPPedpK7lWk?feature=shared">https://www.youtube.com/live/NPPedpK7lWk?feature=shared</a>)</span></li><ol class="ol1"><li class="li1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 18.6px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18.55px;">D’var Torah - 1:59:00</span></li></ol><li class="li1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 18.6px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18.55px;">KN <a href="https://www.youtube.com/live/KDxQ9o4lhUM?si=_RJDBCQxHkPtfVRu">https://www.youtube.com/live/KDxQ9o4lhUM?si=_RJDBCQxHkPtfVRu</a></span></li><ol class="ol1"><li class="li1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 18.6px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18.55px;">Welcome message - 20:12</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 18.6px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18.55px;">D’var Torah - 1:13:25</span></li></ol><li class="li1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 18.6px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18.55px;">YK <a href="https://www.youtube.com/live/CbmLWoPOF0U?feature=shared">https://www.youtube.com/live/CbmLWoPOF0U?feature=shared</a></span></li><ol class="ol1"><li class="li1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 18.6px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18.55px;">Torah Intro - 1:24:34</span></li><li class="li1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 18.6px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 18.55px;">D’var Torah - 2:15:05</span></li></ol></ol>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-47866655037707899092023-08-04T08:29:00.001-07:002023-08-04T09:09:43.299-07:00Teaching and Tutoring<p>Hi again, everyone! </p><p>I wanted to check in and let you know about a new venture I am starting. I will be offering some courses on Judaism, as well as individual tutoring for anyone interested. Courses include a weekly Bible study, a Basic Judaism course, and several other potential topics, like a Hebrew reading class, Rituals and Ceremonies in Judaism, and an in-depth study of Pirkei Avot (the Ethics of Our Ancestors). </p><p>As for tutoring, I am offering B’nai Mitzvah teaching (prayer leading, chanting, and writing a D’var Torah/sermon), conversion, Hebrew reading and writing, and more. I’m including a flyer below about some of the opportunities that are available. Please reach out if you’re interested in learning together! Thanks so much.</p><p>Warmly,</p><p>Rabbi Gerber </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAs-2_NqDv5hdX47u8hxgnsPJToGhnYdPibOGpBwRYzxqEhZW10quPBwPDRkfzKVoUHl61pf0sChAfS1lp2D3fLQPvL2sUesx5XF5LhTcSae62E9mX0OioVTHVz1GiXVYtcIsn3KMShyBLZH6k1LV5Bfop_Wr9vVfTBx9eF2INQCbWftKqCV7hjBqW8Em8/s1810/IMG_0647.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1810" data-original-width="1280" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAs-2_NqDv5hdX47u8hxgnsPJToGhnYdPibOGpBwRYzxqEhZW10quPBwPDRkfzKVoUHl61pf0sChAfS1lp2D3fLQPvL2sUesx5XF5LhTcSae62E9mX0OioVTHVz1GiXVYtcIsn3KMShyBLZH6k1LV5Bfop_Wr9vVfTBx9eF2INQCbWftKqCV7hjBqW8Em8/w451-h640/IMG_0647.jpeg" width="451" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-18943696684799407302022-10-21T14:01:00.001-07:002022-10-21T14:01:39.367-07:00Saying Goodbye.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHowy1b_3P0q8yk_YpgJo6sslJPvzryj6jwIFunhfuqBLvnaAEiV-rhQcru8lW0ehPs5lH35KQ2sFaK8PoewG-R8_biFFUdB_y3GeQN9B6p3kxMAUpxz_Y7PutB5bpaX79iQeuz6wpfOJl2Yipo9XWkeYsBM55Wa912ssxGqwiaiRIeZu3fthSTtgwsQ/s967/Final%20Thank%20You.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="967" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHowy1b_3P0q8yk_YpgJo6sslJPvzryj6jwIFunhfuqBLvnaAEiV-rhQcru8lW0ehPs5lH35KQ2sFaK8PoewG-R8_biFFUdB_y3GeQN9B6p3kxMAUpxz_Y7PutB5bpaX79iQeuz6wpfOJl2Yipo9XWkeYsBM55Wa912ssxGqwiaiRIeZu3fthSTtgwsQ/s320/Final%20Thank%20You.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Dear wonderful readers and followers of this blog, Take on Torah:</p><p>After 13+ years and 675 blog posts, I have decided to stop writing Take on Torah. I will be leaving my pulpit at Ohev Shalom in early December, and do not yet know where I’m going or where I’ll end up. It feels fitting to end this blog on the Torah portion of Bereisheet, at the very beginning of the Torah, with many new adventures and opportunities ahead of us all. </p><p>This blog will remain online, hopefully indefinitely, and I’ve included the name of each week’s Torah portion in the title of the post. If you ever want to read my Divrei Torah again, or see my High Holiday sermons, or even some of my synagogue newsletter articles, feel free to peruse this site whenever. If you find yourself wanting to comment, ask a question, or in some other way react to what you're reading, please, please do reach out to me. I truly cherish your feedback - positive, constructive, and yes, even negative - and I'm certainly always up for a spirited exchange about the Torah!</p><p>Thank you for all these years of support and encouragement. Your comments and feedback have honed and improved my writing, and you have challenged me to see things from new angles. It has been my sincere pleasure and honor to write this blog for so long, and to share my take on the weekly Torah portions with all of you. I hope that you will continue to engage with the Torah; mining the text for deeper meaning and seeking out relevant messages for all of our everyday lives. It is a living, breathing document, that begs us to stay in relationship with it as the soul of our Jewish peoplehood. As I have done since the very *genesis* of this blog, I invite - and even urge - you to “take on [the] Torah!” Challenge it, wrestle with the text, let it push you and your thinking a little… and then push it right back. </p><p>Thank you for reading my thoughts and commentaries, and for continuing to engage with the texts of our wonderful, ancient, multi-faceted tradition. Please remember always that learning is life-long, and we should constantly seek out opportunities to discover something new or shift our perspective. Be grateful for the ability to grow as a human being, and strive to regularly evolve your thinking. Thank you so much.</p><p>לך לשלום חברים - Go in peace, dear friends.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>CC image in this blog post, courtesy of <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Thank-you-word-cloud.jpg">Ashashyou</a> on <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/">Wikimedia Commons</a></p>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-47778352396592229992022-10-07T13:55:00.000-07:002022-10-07T13:55:03.545-07:00Yom Kippur, 5783/2022 - Main D'var Torah (Daytime)<p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I was 19 years old, I moved to the United States on my own. At the time, I mostly just felt super-excited about this new adventure, moving to New York City, straight into Manhattan, and attending two colleges at the same time, List College, the undergraduate program at the Jewish Theological Seminary, and Columbia University. It was just the most fabulous, wondrous, exhilarating experience I could ever have imagined. I arrived a week early, with just my mom accompanying me, and she helped me set up my dorm room and get myself as ready as possible for this thoroughly overwhelming new stage of my life. It was only on the initial day of orientation, when she had to get back on a plane for Sweden, that I for the first time realized I was all alone. I watched her taxi leave the corner of 120th Street and Amsterdam Avenue, and I cried. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Years later, I looked back at that time, and I frankly marveled at how I made it all work. I was 19 years old, my entire family was on another continent, and I had never studied in the United States before, let alone at an Ivy League college like Columbia, and nothing I had ever experienced before could prepare me for life in New York City in the late 1990s. I never again felt that level of insecurity and uncertainty about the future, as I did at that moment. I often wondered, later in life, if that was an isolated incident or if I could ever take such a massive leap of faith and self-reliance again.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of the things I recall from that first year was learning all about the institutions I was attending. As I walked through the then massive iron gates of JTS, I looked up at the emblem of the institution and I was confused. Underneath a picture of what was clearly a tree or a shrub of some sort, were three words in Hebrew, והסנה איננו אוכל, “And the bush was not consumed.” It comes from the Book of Exodus, chapter 3, verse 2, referring to the moment when Moses, tending the flock of his father-in-law, Jethro, looked up into the mountains and saw a bush on fire, and yet… it was not being engulfed in the flame or turned to ash. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now why on earth would an academic institution make that their tagline???</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">It just seemed to me like an odd moment to capture. Not God actually speaking to Moses from the bush, not Moses removing his sandals on holy ground, and not God demonstrating miracles to Moses which he could later use to convince the Israelites and Pharaoh that he was indeed an emissary of God on a holy mission. Just, “the bush kept burning…” Riveting stuff. However, over the years I’ve found myself returning to this phrase numerous times, and each time I have developed a new and evolving understanding of it. But rather than give you my perspective right now, I’d like to first share with you a quote from Rabbi Toba Spitzer’s book, “God is Here,” the one I’ve been quoting and referencing throughout these High Holiday sermons. The book is all about trying to develop new relationships with God, and preferably ones that don’t require us to imagine God as a Big Person. She uses lots of textual examples from our Jewish Bible to show that our ancestors likened God to water, a cloud, a rock, and several others. Her book includes a chapter on God seen through the metaphor of fire, in which she brings up this very moment from Exodus.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Spitzer talks about teaching this quote to a group of social justice activists, and asking them why God appears to Moses in this particular way. That’s such a great question. Why not thunder and lightning? Why not a massive talking animal? Or a mysterious, angel-like human figure?? Why an inextinguishable shrub? One participant responded: “Because to take this [work] on, you have to have a fire burning within, an anger about injustice, a passion for the work of liberation. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> that fire can overwhelm and consume you.” That answer really resonated with me. I think about my own life and my rabbinic work, and the things in life that make me passionate and excited, and I totally agree with this observation. You need something to kindle that light inside you. A FUSE, of sorts. And you need to figure out how to keep it lit and thriving, or the work can become burdensome and loathsome, and you yourself can become jaded and disillusioned. There’s a reason why losing our energy and our excitement is often called “burnout” or “flaming out.” If the fire inside is extinguished, it’s hard to find your enthusiasm once again.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the other hand, if you let that fire burn uncontrollably, your passion can turn into obsession, vitriol, and even violence, and it can consume you and everyone around you. It can destroy everything you’ve worked for. That’s pretty daunting, isn’t it? How do you find that balance? Or, as Rabbi Spitzer writes in her book, “While almost anything can be dangerous in excess, the distance between warming your hands by a fire and singeing your fingers is a matter of inches.” We have to guard and keep that flame, while also respecting how thin that line really can be.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fire is such a particularly good metaphor in this instance. Think about how absolutely vital it is to human survival. So much so, that we often talk about humans harnessing the power of fire as </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">the</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> beginning of civilization! Many of our foods, even today, could be terribly harmful to us if not boiled, cooked, or roasted first. Even water is often not safe to drink until boiled. As mammals without fur, fire was of course vital to prehistoric humans for heat. And without night vision, torches were essential for navigating treacherous environments. At the same time, despite how vital fire may be, there’s also no question how dangerous and life-threatening it can become as well. Especially when we don’t respect it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our internal self-preservation and survival instinct might kick into gear here, and caution us that if something is THAT dangerous, we should avoid it altogether. Why even risk it? Well, I return then to the rabbinic quote I’ve been using throughout this series as well, from the Ethics of Our Ancestors, Pirkei Avot, where Rabbi Tarfon reminds us that “we are not required to complete the task, but neither are we free to desist from it.” This is a slightly different reframing, but I still feel his words apply. I hear Rabbi Tarfon reminding us that just because something is scary, concerning, and potentially even dangerous, doesn’t mean we should just give up without trying. Moving to New York City on my own at 19 was pretty terrifying, but I wouldn’t change that journey for anything in the world. In life, you cannot simply desist from walking the paths that are hard.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">I often find myself thinking about this concept of taking on scary things even when they’re dangerous, when it comes to parenting. We so desperately want to protect our children from harm, difficulty, pain, and disappointment… and yet, those experiences ARE vital for learning how to be resilient. That doesn’t mean we actively put our kids in harm’s way, but again, it’s hard to find the perfect balance between on the one hand trying to protect them, warn them, and make decisions that we tell ourselves are “for their own good,” while on the other hand, needing to let them explore and discover the world on their own. Our pediatrician once told me, little black and blue marks on kids’ legs and scuffed knees are the sign of a healthy child learning how to navigate the world as well as their own body.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fire is also an excellent metaphor for emotions, specifically anger. Even in English, our descriptions of getting angry often revolve around feeling our “blood boiling” or being “fuming mad.” But then, society also cautions us, anger is bad. It’s destructive. It can hurt people. And it would be better to let our anger pass, calm down, and then make level-headed decisions. In my pastoral work, I see so many adults who don’t know what to do with their anger. Some retreat into silence, others may start to shake with anger, while yet others may turn to one substance or another to try and force their blood pressure to drop back down. They’re all struggling with this notion that anger is bad. It can be a destructive, fiery blaze that can injure or kill. We must stop it at all costs.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Just look around in society or in the news; we see constant examples of people having no idea how to handle their so-called negative emotions of anger, frustration, disappointment, fear, shame, and guilt. Maybe they get up on a stage and slap someone on national television for saying something they didn’t like. Or they attack authority figures, doctors, and epidemiologists who don’t give them the answers they want. They start wars to annex territory that doesn’t belong to them, dragging entire nations down with them in the process. Or perhaps they join a riot at the seat of their country’s democracy because they didn’t agree with the results of an election. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As a parent, I see the need from the very earliest moments of child development for this kind of intervention… especially </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">because</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> we see so many adults - including world leaders - who have no clue what to do when their emotions are boiling over or about to explode like a powder keg. All of us, from children to grownups, need better strategies for handling negative emotions. I firmly believe that part of that begins by not thinking of them as wholly negative.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Throughout the Tanach, there are images of God being angry… with some seriously damaging repercussions. In many of those instances, God is described as an “אש אוכלה - an all-consuming fire.” In Leviticus, God’s anger blazes forth against two of Aaron’s sons, when they offer an unsanctioned sacrifice. In the Book of Numbers, God’s flames return for the followers of Korach, rebelling against Moses. And in the Books of Kings, God torches the 400 priests of Ba’al, who challenge the prophet Elijah to a contest of sacrifices. Fire is scary; God’s fire is terrifying. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">At the same time, the Bible also depicts God’s fire as a force for good, protection, and connection as well. The Bible doesn’t view it as inherently negative, and invites us to be in relationship with its positive attributes as well. It is also the pillar of fire in Exodus that protects the Israelites from the oncoming Egyptian hordes by the Sea of Reeds. In Leviticus, fire was an absolutely essential component of how our ancient ancestors connected with God. They didn’t have prayer books or Torah scrolls; only sacrifices. Rabbi Spitzer writes, “the flames on the altar were both a reminder of God as Fire and a means of connecting to the divine.” I imagine that the Israelites, standing there watching the flames and smoke of their offering ascend into heaven, surely felt that God, who otherwise seemed so distant up above, would hear their prayers. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is true that the Bible demonstrates how dangerous fire and anger can be… but it also shows how life-giving and protecting it can be, and we need to emulate that ability to keep both types of fire in balance. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">In general, we need more positive associations with these complex emotions that we otherwise just dismiss as “negative” and “harmful.” The Bible offers many ways to reframe them, yet so often we still do our best to just try and not feel angry or upset. Yet still I maintain, anger can be healing. It can even be transformative. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rabbi Spitzer introduces a fascinating concept in her chapter on Holy Fire, that of our ancient ancestors viewing God through the practice of metallurgy. She refers to something called “Furnace Remelting,” where a corroded copper object would be completely melted down in the glowing fire of a furnace, so that it could be made into an entirely new object. She quotes a scholar from Ben Gurion University, Nissin Amzallag, talking about how the Israelites would have seen the power of God’s fire as being creative, renewing, and positive, saying: “it was conceived [by the Israelites] as a wonder leading to a complete rejuvenation of creation through a massive destruction of shape.” When we are thoroughly broken down, it is also an opportunity to rebuild something completely new… and potentially amazing. Just like the myth of the phoenix, a bird that explodes into flames, yet is then born again from the ashes. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">I want us to stay with this vision of the transformational power of fire for a bit. Let’s think again about our own emotions, the ones we sometimes have so much trouble controlling when they start to boil over. It is true, if we find ways to fully express those emotions, and not always try and tamp them down, or hope they’ll just pass, or medicate them away, it may indeed create a massive blaze - that is a risk - but potentially one that is not only healing, but can be completely revolutionizing. Like furnace remelting, it could lead to something entirely new and fresh and liberating… but first we’ve got to walk through that fire. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">In many ways, I look back on my experience of moving to New York for college as a ‘remelting’ experience. It was tough, it was challenging, and it definitely wasn’t easy. But going through a major life change like that and coming out stronger on the other side really set me on a new path for the rest of my life. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">It isn’t just my experience either. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I have talked to people who have walked their own challenging, sometimes painful, paths - surviving substance abuse, illnesses, or accidents - they will certainly readily admit that it was an excruciating process. A genuine trial by fire. And yet, without using this exact language, they all say that it was a ‘remelting’ experience too. They went into that blaze - for as long as it was necessary - and they came out as a reformed, stronger, glowing version of themselves. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I think of this metaphor for God, it isn’t so much that I picture God as a divine blaze, like some exciting x-men hero in a flame-retardant suit. Rather, I envision this external force that can come in and reshape us, and also, at the same time, a powerful energy that can come from inside us, that can lead us to achieve extraordinary things. Both from outside and from within ourselves; that is where we may find God… or perhaps just godliness. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of the fire images that makes its way into the modern synagogue is the Ner Tamid, the Eternal Light. Every synagogue has one, and for some reason it seems to be common knowledge among all Hebrew School students and congregants that the Eternal Light is NEVER supposed to be turned off. That, and never drop a Torah scroll; those seem to be the essential, synagogue 101 facts that everyone knows. The Ner Tamid is meant to remind us of the fire on the altar in the Ancient Temple in Jerusalem, which also was expected to remain lit constantly. Priests would keep watch all night long, to make sure it stayed, you know, eternal. It may also have served as a reminder of that moment of God approaching Moses, in a fiery bush that nevertheless was not consumed, which changed the course of Jewish history forever. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">At the same time, it was also a symbol of the perpetual Divine presence. Just as the fire would always be there, so would God’s Presence. But in her book, Rabbi Spitzer adds another crucial dimension as well. She writes, “the fire perpetually burning on the altar is a reminder that the metaphorical flame in the human heart never actually goes out. We just need to find it, and tend it, in order for that inner blaze to burn true.” Which leads me very nicely back to my High Holiday theme for this year, which is the need to aspire in our lives. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">So often we just go through the day to day, running on autopilot and not living with intentionality. But it’s there, isn’t it? Somewhere deep inside, there is an ember of a flame that’s just waiting to be nurtured, cultivated, and brought back up to a blaze? We just have to strive, again and again, to find it and tend to it. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">For some people, it might be a desire to participate in Tikkun Olam, either working for a social justice cause or addressing the global environmental crisis. Or perhaps running for political office. For others, it may be a personal passion that just got set aside long ago; maybe playing an instrument, doing something that gets your heart pumping, or perhaps even taking your life in a new direction. Can it be scary? Of course. But when can we justifiably say that something is *too* scary, and when have we just never challenged ourselves to take the leap and confront our fears head on??</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Again, I return to that tagline under the JTS symbol; והסנה איננו אוכל - the bush kept burning and burning, but it did not go out. Even when we feel overwhelmed and intimidated, somewhere deep down, we may feel that the Eternal Light inside us continues to smolder. It will not go out. Yom Kippur is the perfect time to go search inside yourselves for just such a flame. On this day, we set aside our material needs and the sustenance of our bodies, and instead focus on finding nourishment for our souls. Is it an easy search? No, of course not. But it’s worth the struggle, and it’s worth spending your time striving to find it. How can you nourish your soul? What do you need at this time that you aren’t getting, and can you search inside for an eternal light that is waiting for you to care for it and really reignite it?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I left my home in Stockholm in 1999, I was leaving behind community, stability, comfort, and the life I had always known. I didn’t quite set it all on fire, but it did feel a bit like burning bridges behind me. I certainly felt like I was stepping off a cliff, taking a leap of faith and hoping things would work out. I always wondered if I’d need to do that again, and what would happen if I found myself staring off into the wilderness of the unknown; </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">like Moses, wandering along with his sheep, when he looked up and saw that indestructible bush. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">And now, another moment for me is almost here. Another leap of faith, another scary moment of wondering if I do burn up, will I get to start over, like the phoenix rising from the ashes? I guess that remains to be seen. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">But I still return, again and again, to the importance of facing your fears. Just because something is scary, it doesn’t mean you need to run the other way. Especially because life will put obstacles and challenges in your path over and over again. So many people in this room have dealt with grief, and/or pain, and/or illness, and many other unfortunate circumstances that you wished you never had to deal with. But two things remain true: You cannot change the past. Wish all you like, you cannot magically undo things once they’ve occurred. And second, if you can stay with that experience, be present to it, and really feel the emotions of that painful time, it can become a source of strength and growth. It can become a “furnace remelting” moment, and give you new tools for dealing with whatever *else* life has in store for you.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">So as I finish this sermon, and thus my final High Holiday sermon series, I pray for all of us to learn and grow from the pain of this moment. Yes, it can feel like burning, searing anguish, but it is only the end of one stage in all our lives and in the life of this community, and can lead to the rebirth of another phoenix experience on the other end. Rather than a consuming fire, it can instead be a Ner Tamid, a perpetual flame that just needs new kindling and firewood, but ultimately it is the same fire that keeps going. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Standing here, I find my attention back at that image of the Burning Bush. That moment of realizing it wasn’t being consumed was Moses’ first realization of God’s Presence and his own destiny taking him in an entirely new direction. It was a terrifying moment, to be sure, but I also imagine that Moses realized the bush continuing to burn and not being destroyed meant it wasn’t something to fear. It was a symbol of God’s care and concern, a burning desire to stay in relationship with Moses and the Jewish People. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">I hope that even as I end my tenure here as the Rabbi of Ohev Shalom, that our relationship will continue to burn, and our connection will not end. </span></p><p><i>At this point, I set aside my sermon and spoke without prepared remarks. In essence, I thanked the congregation for these magical 13 1/2 years, and told them - and that includes you, dear readers, as well - what a fabulous community this is. It will be very, very hard to say goodbye. Thank you for everything. Shanah Tovah!</i></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-e92035ee-7fff-3ce2-4158-d158b9089a29"><div><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-51476342038401485812022-10-07T13:48:00.000-07:002022-10-07T13:48:21.082-07:00Yom Kippur Eve, 5783 - Kol Nidrei Sermon<p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of the things that greatly surprised me when I first started as the rabbi at Ohev Shalom, was learning how many people at the synagogue had never been to Israel. At the time, even our Cantor/Education Director had never been! To be fair, I grew up in Sweden, which was a shorter (and much less-expensive) flight away, and I also briefly lived in London in my 20s, and led trips to Israel from there too, so I admit I had a seriously unfair advantage.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I came here, I learned that the congregation had done a trip just before I came to Ohev, but before </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">that </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">trip, it had been decades since the last one. That had to change… and I’ll tell you why. But first, let me say something about my own relationship with Israel. I experience a lot of internal struggles, personally, with Israeli politics; the divisiveness that unfortunately pervades much of modern Israeli society; the unbelievably fraught </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matzav</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, the “situation,” with the Palestinians - both the people and their authorities on the West Bank and in Gaza; and especially regarding the tremendous polarization between the Orthodox and non-Orthodox segments of the population. I struggle. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve lived there twice - once, for a year, as a child, and then another year much later as a rabbinical student - and I can tell you it is a *tough* place to be a full-time resident. There is a good reason why Israelis call themselves Sabras, the Hebrew word for the prickly pear or cactus pear, a fruit that both grows on the outside of very inhospitable cacti, AND itself is covered in little spikes and thorns. If you can get past the exterior, the inside is a delicious, sweet fruit. Israelis love the image of being bright, lovely, kind people… on the inside… but you really don’t want to take on their natural defenses! In order to make it in the Middle East, you do kind of have to develop spikes and thorns and a tough exterior, if you’re gonna survive.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve had mixed experiences there and many frustrations. It’s a complex place where challenges abound… and yet, despite all of that, I unequivocally call myself a Zionist. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Because Zionism is about the millennia-old connection that we Jews have with the land, and which we have maintained uninterruptedly despite everything that has happened </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">around us</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> throughout world history, and </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">to us</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> as an oppressed minority… basically everywhere. Therefore, even when I grapple - constantly - with so many things happening there right now, nevertheless, as a firm and staunch Zionist, I love that place and feel closely bound to it in many, many ways. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Medinat Yisrael</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, the State of Israel, causes me heartache and grief… but </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Eretz Yisrael</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, the Land of Israel? It will always be a part of my soul, my heart, and my very being. There is just something about that place that calls me back time and again. That’s how I know I am a Zionist. I feel it in my bones, coursing through my blood, and bound up with the very fiber of my Jewish being. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That probably helps explain why, in my 13 ½ years at Ohev, I have led three trips to Eretz Yisrael. Not only for the selfish reason that my soul yearns to return there frequently AS a visitor, but also because it is a thoroughly indescribable feeling to bring other Jews to Israel for </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">their</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> first time. To see the beauty of the land, the cities, the culture, and the history through the eyes of people who’ve never experienced it before, makes my body tingle, both as I wrote these words on my iPad and saying them out loud to you now. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Furthermore, I have a secondary agenda with my trips, and some of you have heard me say this before. A few years ago, I started proposing what we called “boutique trips” to Israel. I very intentionally did NOT want to only run first-timer trips, where we visit all the standard, touristy, obvious sites in Israel. In 2016, we did a foodie trip, called “Milk and Honey, Wine and Chocolate.” And in 2018, we did a trip focused primarily on the south of Israel, called “Into the Desert.” I have a couple of other boutique trip ideas too, by the way, like “The Ten Places You’ve Never Seen In Israel; a Tour Guide’s Hidden Gems,” and also “Israel by Night,” where we would take boat trips and explore how the cities come alive at night, and do incredible things like a desert night hike where the bright white limestone of the Judean desert practically glows by night, and so much more.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">So what’s my hidden agenda? I need you all to know that Israel is not another place to put on your bucket list. It shouldn’t be something you tick off, like “we’ve been to Hawaii, the Galapagos, Israel, Thailand, and Paris.” It’s not the same. It’s not a place you visit once. It just isn’t. It is a part of you. And discovering the richness of its food, its nightlife, its topography, its people, and so, so much more is essential to us as Jews, and is vital to me as a rabbi. It needs to be an ongoing relationship; not just a one-off. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is a reason why Yehudah Ha-Levi, a Spanish poet, philosopher, and physician who lived a thousand years ago, famously wrote, “My heart is in the East, and I am in the utmost West.” He too longed for the Holy Land. Or why 2,000 years *before* Yehudah Ha-Levi, Psalm 137 in the Bible stated, “If I forget you, O Jerusalem, may my right hand cease to function.” To the Psalmist, Jerusalem and indeed the whole Promised Land, was like a physical limb, an indispensable part of the body. It’s simply not a place to go once, experience, buy the t-shirt, and then move on to the next destination on your traveling to-do list. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I want to share with you one story from the first trip that I organized to Israel, in 2011. (I’m actually going to tell a second story that also took place on that trip, but I’m saving that one for the Neilah service tomorrow evening. If you’re able to make it back, I think you’ll find it worth your while…) But this evening, I want to tell you about our trip to Masada. We did the usual touristy thing of trekking up the Snake Path at dawn, so that we could be at the top before the real desert heat blanketed the area. And then we had the amazing experience of </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">davening</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">shacharit</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, our morning service, at the top of Masada, in a secluded, ancient prayer space, overlooking the Dead Sea and the surrounding mountains, as the sun rose and glistened across the surface of the water. It was simply spectacular.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">We had the special treat of celebrating a Bar Mitzvah that morning, and I also remember so fondly standing there reading Torah, next to Karen Stesis, of blessed memory; and I had the great privilege and immense joy of traveling to Israel - as well as to Europe - with Karen and Louis several times. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">As the service on Masada was coming to a close, I asked everyone to indulge me for a minute. I told them to close their eyes and actually envision *this place*, this Sanctuary here at Ohev Shalom. I remember it so clearly. I said to them: “Can you picture it? The cinderblock walls (this was before we had the mosaic panels), the Tim Burton-esque tree/menorah thing, the windows, and the pews?” I asked each person to pick a spot in their minds. Pick a specific row and a seat, and imagine yourself sitting down and looking around at all the familiar aspects of the Ohev Shalom Sanctuary. Then, I told those Ohev congregants to open their eyes and look at the breathtaking, sensational view that we had right there on the top of Masada.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">I encouraged each person to find that seat when we get back home, and actually go and sit in the Sanctuary in your chosen chair. And then - when you’re back at Ohev - close your eyes and conjure up THIS view, here at Masada. I wanted their brains and their memories to link the two together. Standing on gorgeous, ancient, hot, sunny Masada, picture Ohev Shalom in Wallingford, Pennsylvania, SO THAT when you’re back in DelCo, you can teleport yourself to this spiritual, awesome experience in the Judean Desert, overlooking Yam Ha-Melach, the Dead Sea. THAT is the power of place. And that is what I want to talk to you about here tonight; the Power of Place.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">This evening, I am continuing my sermon series with part three, after the first two sermons I gave on Rosh Hashanah, days 1 and 2. My theme this year is “to aspire,” by which I mean that the goal of these High Holidays, and perhaps throughout our lives in general, is not to achieve some state of perfection and bliss and then stay there forever.. I believe our task is to aspire always to be better, to increase kindness, knowledge, and equality for our fellow human beings, for animals, and for the very planet itself. God is constantly inviting us to be partners in Tikkun Olam, Repairing the World. On Rosh Hashanah, I quoted an ancient sage named Rabbi Tarfon, who wrote 2,000 years ago in Pirkei Avot, the Ethics of Our Ancestors, (Hebrew, then) “You are not required to finish the task, but neither are you free to desist from it.” In other words, we keep striving, we keep aspiring. It continues throughout life.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Whether you agree or not about the importance of aspiring, you might justifiably point to the High Holiday Machzor, the prayer book in front of you, and say “this thing doesn’t talk about striving; it focuses on repentance, judgment, and obeying God. And if that is indeed what the book says, and what people believe Judaism says, then I understand why so many people tune out. For many people here tonight, and likely in shuls all around the world, they just have no relationship - or interest in pursuing one - with God at all. I get that. I hear that, and I know where you’re coming from. But here’s my counterpoint: On Rosh Hashanah, I shared with you some observations from Rabbi Toba Spitzer’s book, “God is Here,” which endeavors - or perhaps aspires - to change the way we relate to the Divine. What if we could let go, entirely, of the idea of God as a Big Person, as a Being that guides, or controls… or manipulates our lives, and relate to the concept of a Force outside of ourselves in a completely new way?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rabbi Spitzer offers several metaphors for God that look nothing like a King, a Shepherd, a Warrior, or any of those other images we see in the Torah, throughout the Jewish Bible, and indeed even right here in our High Holiday Machzor. Tonight, I want to introduce you to another intriguing God-metaphor. (If you want to read, or re-read, the first two, they’re already up on my blog) Spitzer writes: “When I ask people to tell me about their God beliefs, often they have no idea what to say, or simply say they don’t believe in God. But if I ask them to describe a spiritual experience that they’ve had, whatever that may mean to them, many will tell me about special PLACES in their lives.” Places, spaces can indeed be magically full of spirituality and meaning. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">I believe very strongly in the Power of Place, of having unique and meaningful experiences in a location where everything seems to come together perfectly. The sights, sounds, smells, and the feeling of being present right there create an awesome sense of presence that we hold onto long after we leave. That’s why I wanted to start my sermon tonight talking about Israel. No matter how much I grapple with it, the Power of THAT place has imprinted so many core memories on me that I can’t help but feel tied to it and bonded with it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I think of Eretz Yisrael, I can feel instantly teleported to the Shuk, the bustling marketplace in Jerusalem that certainly overloads my senses. I recall breathtakingly beautiful drives around the Kinneret, the Galilee, on tour buses that somehow take hairpin turns down mountain paths at alarming speeds; I picture standing at different levels of the Baha’i Gardens in Haifa, or just gazing out at the mountain views from the top of the city; or returning to my most favorite place in all of Israel, Machtesh Ramon, a massive, naturally-formed crater in the south, in the Negev Desert.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Most of us have had incredibly powerful and life-changing experiences in special locations that are forever etched into our memory banks. Perhaps not in Israel, but someplace, at some time, you had a similar moment of unforgettable awe in a most magical place. Or, as Rabbi Spitzer wonderfully quotes the Beatles’ lyric: “There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed…” But “hang on,” you might say, “God had nothing to do with my memory! I didn’t encounter God in that place! In fact, I never associated God with that experience in the slightest!!” Ok, but let’s stop and examine that for a moment. The God that wasn’t there was perhaps the “Big Person God” that I am seeking to unpack. What if God could be viewed differently, not as Something or Someone you have to try and bring into your experience… but the experience itself? What if God IS the place you remember all your life? Or what if Divinity and holiness can be found in simply BEING, simply experiencing something magnificent and jaw-dropping, and feeling our bodies tingle with the smallness of our own existence in the face of the enormity of a mountain range, a waterfall, a trip to the ocean, or insert-your-own-fantastic-experience-here? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">This may surprise you, but “The Place” is actually one of our names for God! When someone is in mourning, grieving the loss of a loved one, we say to that person, “המקום ינחם אתכם בתוך אבלי ציון וירושלים”- “May ‘The Place’ comfort you among all those who mourn for Zion and Jerusalem.” I’ve actually wondered about that phrase for many years. Ordinarily, we refer to God as Adonai, Elohim, Eil, YHWH, Yahwe, Shaddai, Hashem, Adonai Tzevaot, and many more. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">But why, in that most vulnerable and painful moment of experiencing death, do we use the Divine pseudonym of “Makom”? Rabbi Spitzer answers this for me beautifully.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She uses the story of our ancestor, Jacob, in the Book of Genesis, who wakes up from a dream in which he saw a ladder going straight up to heaven, with angels ascending and descending it, and he declares, “Mah Norah Ha-Makom Ha-Zeh! - How awesome is this place!” Spitzer even uses that phrase as the title of her chapter on place, and Rabbi Miller recently shared with us a beautiful melody, written by Rabbi Shefa Gold, for those words: “Mah Norah Ha-Makom Ha-Zeh!” Spitzer writes that envisioning God as </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Makom</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> - Place, “emphasizes the nearness of God, [and] the ability to access God in moments of vulnerability and transition.” Just as we said last week, when we talked about God as Water, this is an image of God that isn’t transcendent, high up in the clouds or beyond space and time; this God is right here, closely residing with - and perhaps inside - all of us. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Furthermore, even though I spent the first half of my sermon talking about Israel, and what a special and spiritual place it is, Rabbi Spitzer talks about the power of place being achievable anywhere. “The underlying irony,” she writes, “of calling God ‘HaMakom/The Place’ is that there isn’t just one place to encounter godliness - that can happen in </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">any</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> place.” A good friend of mine recently said that the ocean is her second synagogue. For her, that is indeed a holy place. Do you have to bring a Siddur and a tallit for it to be “officially” holy? Or do you need to hear a voice from heaven declaring “I approve this message,” for it to “count”? No, absolutely not. We can aspire to find God and godliness in any place. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Makom is specifically God as intimacy, support, love, caring, and vulnerability. All of a sudden, it makes perfect sense to use Makom when comforting mourners. Because especially when we are grieving, or in pain, or lost, or experiencing any other form of chaos in our lives, we need a safe “place” to return to. In that story about Jacob in the desert, he felt tremendously lost, alone, scared, and anxious. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Which is why he needed God to support and protect him in the midst of his vulnerability. Rabbi Spitzer writes: “[Jacob] learns that there is godliness even in places where we wish we didn’t have to be.” She also writes that, “We can think of God as a Place to which we retreat to find comfort and relief.” Or as we might say colloquially when we’re feeling stressed or anxious, we can “go to our happy place.” We may not think of that place as containing God, but just finding safety and security there might, in a sense, be godliness still.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">I love this imagery. It is incredibly resonant for all of us, whether we’re thinking of a childhood home or other place in the past that was safe and reassuring, or some fabulous vacation memory that was blissful and peaceful, or our own homes right now, that are hopefully a place of solace, intimacy, and relaxation. But even more than that, think about this space right now. Not just the sanctuary in general, the one I encouraged everyone on Masada to envision, but your experience here tonight in our Kol Nidrei service. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">The lighting falls just so, as the afternoon sky turns to dusk and then nighttime. The beautiful sounds of Mara’s and Bruce’s playing still rings in our ears, as do the notes of Rabbi Miller’s fantastic voice, singing the familiar, mournful, solemn notes of the Kol Nidrei prayer. We are surrounded by family, friends, fellow congregants, and perhaps thinking about previous years with others who are no longer with us. Everything about this evening is just infused with spirituality and holiness. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mah Norah Ha-Makom Ha-Zeh - How awesome is this place! How powerful is this moment right now, with all of us here together? And now imagine that you don’t have to therefore - because of this experience here tonight - subscribe to the Book of Life idea, or that God controls our destiny, or any other aspect of classical, traditional theology. We spend so much time grappling with God; wrestling, arguing, challenging, and demanding accountability for hurricanes, pandemics, recessions, and of course, the Holocaust. What about dedicating some time to just be, to just experience a moment of connection, spirituality, and meaning, and not have to challenge or question it? Let the godliness find you, just by residing in a place that is imbued with meaning.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">To me, the point of all these new metaphors for God is that we’ve let other people dictate for us how we’re supposed to feel about God, or about our own mortality or the origins of our world, and so on. Opening ourselves up to new possibilities allows us to aspire for something different. Something personal and deeply meaningful… and something you don’t have to struggle to find or hold onto. It might just exist in the very place where you stand or sit.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">I began tonight’s sermon talking about Israel, because that is such an impactful place for me. I *also* struggle with the politics and the religious oppression, the constant fighting and the tough exterior that one experiences in Israel. But then I also have an immensely strong relationship with the Makom, with the place itself. And no matter how angry or frustrated I get about the stuff in the newspapers and the opinion pieces, I will always strive to maintain my Zionist passion for the Makom. That relationship is too precious to me, too vital to my identity as a Jew, to ever relinquish.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">That may not be your experience of Israel. I’m not trying to make you feel what I feel, regarding Israel, God, or anything else. But I do want to challenge you to reconsider some of the notions you’ve been taught, and which simply may not resonate with you. God can be found and encountered in any space and at any time.We can bring spirituality and meaning into any situation, even by just closing our eyes and imagining ourselves in an incredible place we once visited. By connecting back to that memory, you can bring holiness into the present. We should aspire to find opportunities to exclaim to ourselves: “Mah Norah Ha-Makom Ha-Zeh!” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rabbi Spitzer writes about that phrase, stating: “To live in the reality of “how awesome is this Place” is to live our lives open to the possibility that there is a spark of the holy - a bit of wisdom, a deeper understanding, a sense of connection - available to us in any place, in any moment, even the most difficult.” God is not meant to be about judgment, criticism, or rule-following, but rather as a resource to help us get through life, appreciating the wonderful moments and persevering through the tough ones… maybe even finding a way to bless the good AND the bad, </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">because of how it helps us grow and become stronger. When we are in relationship with ourselves, delving into what’s going on inside me, in Judaism we call that the connection “Bein Adam La-Makom,” which is often translated as, “Between a person and God.” There it is again, the name “Makom” being used for God! In part, it’s because your private introspection is seen as being only between you and God, and perhaps it’s yet another time when you need a lot of support, kindness, and acceptance. At the same time, I also think it’s because it’s really about a relationship between yourself and The Right Now, this moment in this very space, this Makom.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Standing up there on Masada, I wanted everyone to know that all you have to do is close your eyes and you can return to that Makom. I used that exercise again on a later Israel trip, standing on a pier in the Kinneret, the Sea of Galilee, watching the sky change color as we sang Lecha Dodi and welcomed in Shabbat in that incredibly holy space. Again, I wanted people to be able to return there whenever they wanted or needed to. And I would like to invite you all here tonight to do the same; to close your eyes and hold onto the holiness of this evening and this beautiful place. Take that feeling with you into the year ahead, and let it elevate the good times with a blessing of “Mah Norah Ha-Makom ha-Zeh,” and let it strengthen you in the bad times as well. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then it will become more than just a “happy place” you can go to, but one filled with sparks of holiness and incredible meaning. You also don’t have to search for God OR reject God. Just be present, in the experience you’re in, firmly rooted in your Makom, and it will create a memory you’ll remember all your life. That is the Power of Place.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shanah Tovah!</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-b838e7d0-7fff-d385-5196-8457e19d65bd"><br /><br /></span>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-72679752421430633542022-10-02T08:00:00.007-07:002022-10-02T08:00:38.139-07:00Rosh Hashanah, 5783/2022 - Second Day Sermon<p><br /></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-b7b4c19b-7fff-0f5c-f9d2-58f14e8e629e"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The shofar reminds us</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">of the ram in the thicket.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Where are we ensnared?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It shatters complacency.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It wails with our grief,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">stutters with our inadequacy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The shofar cries out</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was whole, I was broken, </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I will be whole again.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Make shofars of us, God!</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Make us resonating chambers</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">for Your love.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That poem was written by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat, who writes a blog online under the fabulous pseudonym, The Velveteen Rabbi (if you’re not familiar with Margery Williams’ lovely children’s book, it’s called the Velveteen Rabbit). I’m actually not going to focus this whole sermon on the shofar, but rather on the concept of </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kol</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, meaning Voice in Hebrew, but it seemed almost ridiculous to deliver a sermon about the power of one’s voice on Rosh Hashanah without beginning with the shofar!! </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Indeed, the ram’s horn is a powerful example of sound resonating all around us as well as within us. As Rabbi Barenblat describes in her poem, “it shatters complacency, it wails with our grief, stutters with our inadequacy.” The three sounds of the shofar - Tekiah, Shevarim, Teruah - are indeed supposed to mimic various emotions. The long, clear, three-second blast of the tekiah is clarity, wholeness, strength. But then, Shevarim, a name that literally means “broken,” three shorter blasts that slice that long Tekiah into three, demonstrating that even when we strive for the clarity and strength of that single blast, much of the time we fall short - or at least we tell ourselves we did - and we feel broken and in pain, sometimes even like </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">we’ve</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> been cut or sliced with a knife. And the last one, Teruah, stutters out nine, tiny blasts, symbolic of how we try to march along and imagine everything is fine… right up until we start to stumble. And one stumble leads to another… There are a lot of pressures and stressors all around us. In the face of the pandemic, Russian invasion in Ukraine, environmental disasters, political turmoil and uncertainty; we viscerally feel the sputtering and floundering of the Teruah inside ourselves.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But then we end with the long call of the Tekiah Gedolah, which - like my High Holiday theme this year - reminds us to keep </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">striving</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">aspiring</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to reach wholeness and holiness, to keep going and keep working on improving our lives. As Rabbi Barenblat states in her poem: “The shofar cries out: I was whole, I was broken. I will be whole again.” The blasts and cries of the shofar are indeed powerful examples of how sound can affect and reflect our moods. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As you may know, if you attended services yesterday, my sermons this High Holiday season develop the concept of aspiring, through four metaphors for God, as articulated by Rabbi Toba Spitzer, in her terrific, new book, “God is Here.” Yesterday, we imagined God using the symbolism of Water, and now I would actually like to skip Spitzer’s second metaphor (for those of you who know the book…), which I will instead discuss on Yom Kippur, and today move on to her third metaphor. The chapter in the book is called “If You Truly Listen,” and is indeed about the power of voice, and of listening… and of silence.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I mentioned, I thought the shofar would be an excellent place to start; though perhaps for a reason that you might not have anticipated. In her book, Spitzer quotes a sound expert named Julian Treasure, who writes, “The human body is 70 percent water, which makes us rather good conductors of sound.” That makes complete sense to me… and yet I never before thought about the water inside us making our entire bodies into sound conductors. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But then I discovered that Barenblat’s poem kind of intimates that in her last line, where she says: “Make shofars of us, God! Make us resonating chambers of Your love.” Filled as we are with water, we are indeed brimming chambers waiting for a resonating sound wave to penetrate into and flow through us. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rabbi Spitzer adds a spiritual dimension, writing: “We humans are conductors of the Godly Voice.” Though, in truth, I did write a note for myself in the margin, “potential conductors, anyway.” We </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">can</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> strive to emanate that Godly Voice, but too many human beings instead choose to use their voices to shame, mislead, attack, spread fear, and bully mercilessly. Nevertheless, our bodies </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">are</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> conductors; we just have to aspire to make them godly. It is not a given; it is a daily choice. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you didn’t feel impacted during our Shofar service yesterday, I encourage you to prepare yourselves for later, when our shofar blowers will again sound out their powerful blasts. I invite you to hold this intention: Close your eyes and visualize that you are indeed made up of 70 percent water; it surrounds and fills every organ, muscle, and bone in your body. And when the shofar rings out, see if you can feel it inside your physical being, not just hear it with your ears. Because the shofar isn’t just meant to be a sound, it should hopefully make your whole body reverberate, and really feel affected and moved by the </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kol Shofar</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, the Voice of the Ram’s Horn.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rabbi Spitzer begins her chapter on Voice by highlighting God speaking to the Children of Israel at Mount Sinai. Talk about a resonating, booming Voice… Yikes! There’s a very odd claim in that section of the Torah, in Exodus, chapter 20, where it states, “וכל העם ראים את הקולות - And all the people *saw* the *voices*” (v. 15). In our Bible class last week, when we were discussing Spitzer’s chapter, someone suggested this was synesthesia, an actual medical condition where the five senses get all jumbled up. You can hear a word and see a color or a shape, or you can see sounds. I realize this might come across a bit psychedelic, but Spitzer reframes it, quoting another rabbi, Darby Leigh, who is profoundly deaf, and who does indeed watch people’s lips or how they sign words with their hands in order to “hear” them. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rabbi Leigh interprets the word “Kol” here, not as sound or voice, but as “vibration.” It’s reminiscent of the stories told about Ludwig van Beethoven, who sawed off the legs of his piano, so it would lay directly on the floor and he could feel - and almost hear - the vibrations in his brain and in his body. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Back in that passage in Exodus, where the Israelites heard God speak to them, the text refers to the people “trembling” and even the mountain itself “trembling” as well, but now I’m wondering if maybe we should translate it instead as “reverberated.” Their bodies are, after all, very good conductors of sound.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yesterday I told you that I didn’t just want to present these new metaphors for the Divine, but most importantly think about how taking them in and contemplating them can also lead us to developing a new relationship with God. Too often - meaning “constantly” - our texts refer to God in one way or another as Big Person Who Controls Our Lives. Whether that’s a King, a Judge, a Vindicator, a Father, a Shepherd, or whatever imagery you’ve heard or read or sung throughout your life. Think, “Avinu, Malkeinu - Our Father, our King.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I know you’ve likely seen God that way your entire life, whether it has led you to believe in God or reject the notion of God entirely, or maybe somewhere in the middle. But what if we shake up those outdated metaphors for God? Again I want to reiterate, if we change the image, it can also change the relationship. Spitzer comes back to this time and again in her book, for example right here, in talking about God’s Voice booming at the people on Sinai. She quotes a rabbinic midrash (story) from Exodus Rabbah, stating that every person present at Mount Sinai heard the Divine Vibration differently. She states: “Each person present received what they needed to hear in that moment.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then comes the meaning-making; the shifting of relationship. Spitzer writes, “this rabbinic tradition makes clear that speaking and listening is an interactive process that depends as much on the listener as the speaker.” Too often we think of religion and religious laws as one-directional. “Thou Shalt…” and “Thou Shalt Not,” and “Thou” definitely shouldn’t question or waver! </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">But if we don’t see God as a Big Person, but rather a voice, a vibration, a force that flows through us and resonates within us, AND which depends as much on our listening as on what is being spoken; that changes things quite a bit, doesn’t it?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Of course, you might respond, “How can there be a voice without a Speaker? Someone’s got to be on the other end of that microphone, no??” Well, that is perhaps coming from an entirely human frame of reference. For me, personally, God does not conform to those standards. The very beginning of the Torah has God speaking all of Creation into existence, and we never hear of any aspect of God’s Being, other than this </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kol</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, this Voice, declaring “Let there be light” and so on. God can indeed be just the voice itself, moving us, not from outside, but from within our very bodies. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When we’re talking about voices and sounds and hearing, we of course can’t leave out our Jewish creed, the prayer we sing aloud three times a day, and which is often the very first thing we teach children to recite: “שמע ישראל ה׳ אלוהינו ה׳ אחד - Hear, O Israel, Adonai our God, Adonai is One.” It’s not a prayer directed at God, but rather to our fellow Jews: Shema YISRAEL. Furthermore, the Shema is not just a command to listen, but a call to action; we are meant to feel compelled to turn that listening, that reverberation that can make our whole body tremble, into Tikkun Olam, partnering with God in repairing our world. That’s what makes the Shema so potent and efficacious. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Does that sound like an exaggeration? Well, Shema Yisrael, listen up, people of Israel (and specifically, people of Congregation Ohev Shalom) - our voices carry tremendous power. Words are tools that can heal or harm. You may have heard me say this before, but I think we need to reverse the famous children’s rhyme: “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.” In fact, sticks and stones - and physical pain - can ONLY hurt my body, a body that can and will recover. But the sting of mean-spirited words? The deep wounds that we can never forget of being maligned or smeared or talked about behind our backs? Our voices, our words, and our intentions do indeed contain immense force. So too, by the way, does our silence. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">When our world leaders choose to remain silent in the face of oppression, persecution, and the killing of innocent people - or the attempted overthrow of our Democracy - that silence is absolutely deafening. Its reverberations are felt long, long after the moment has passed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So voice and sound and hearing - and even silence - are actually very potent resources, and it is imperative that we see them as such. Certainly in a prayer setting, there’s no question it affects one’s experience. Take, for instance, the Kol Nidrei prayer on the eve of Yom Kippur. The words themselves are actually quite dry and not very spiritual. It’s essentially a legal formula denouncing any vows we may make from this Yom Kippur to the next. So why do people love it so much? Why does it feel like each and every one of us is right where we need to be, as soon as we hear those first few notes: “Kol Nidrei…”? Because of the power of song. Rabbi Spitzer writes about this in her book, and these could also be my words, relating to my lived experience here at Ohev Shalom as well: “I have heard many times from my congregants,” writes Spitzer, “ that while they don’t always understand the Hebrew words of our prayer book, they feel a sense of spiritual connection when we sing those words together.” Sound familiar at all? The Kol Nidrei isn’t about the words, almost at all, it’s the melody, the memories it evokes, and the feeling inside us when the song penetrates to our heart and our soul. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How wonderful that music, singing, chanting, even wordless <i>niggunim</i>, can have such a transformational effect on us! Again, what if we let go of the image of God as Commanding Ruler, Who demands that we recite every prayer correctly and at its appropriate, appointed time? What if we instead focused on a Divine Vibration that we let run through our bodies and fill us with connection, meaning, and spirituality? I think a lot more people would seek a relationship to God if theology was expressed more like that. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And it can be! None of us are required to accept the theological depictions put forth in our Torah or our High Holiday prayer book, the Machzor. One of the amazing things about Judaism is that we do not mandate belief. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is no singular creed or dogma that we must declare and accept as true and immutable. We have practice and ritual, tradition and history, music and social action and caring… but </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">not</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> required beliefs. Which is why I encourage, and even urge, us all to be more flexible in our theological understanding of God. You can of course still reject the notion of a Divinity, remaining an atheist or an agnostic. I know religion has done some terrible things, and the Bible can often sound really harsh and not believable. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yet, a lot of that comes back to a rigid, insistent view of God as a Big Person, possibly in the sky, commanding and deciding. And our liturgy will continue to talk about God writing our names in the Book of Life or the Book of Death. So I know it’s hard to get away from that depiction. That’s why we aspire! Yesterday, I proposed we see these concepts as metaphors, not as a factual reality that Judaism insists we adopt. What if the Books of Life and Death are really for all of us to write ourselves into, with our actions, our commitments, and yes, our voices. Do not abdicate that power to anyone else, even God! Rabbi Spitzer writes, “The power of </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kol </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(voice) is wielded </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">both</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> by God and by human beings, and seems closely linked to the ability to discern right from wrong.” We can lift up others, heal relationships, and lower tensions, simply by using our God-given voices… or we can use our words to injure, scar, and even cause permanent damage. Sounds a whole lot scarier than some sticks & stones, or even broken bones…</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Speaking of “broken,” let us return to Shevarim; the shofar blast that means “brokenness.” It reminds us that there is a lot that is shattered in our world. Even our Jewish term for Social Action, Tikkun Olam - Repairing the World, assumes there is brokenness all around us that needs our help to become whole again. The shofar blasts are indeed a call to wake us up from our lethargy and apathy, and really make a difference. And the Kol Shofar, the Voice of the Shofar, reminds us that we too have a Kol, we have a voice as well. It is, in many ways, the spark of the Divine in all of us. And we should aspire, every day, to use our words to speak with kindness, honesty, and courage. To use our silence to hear - Shema - other people and genuinely listen to what they are saying and be there for one another. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">And sometimes to listen to the still, small voice inside ourselves, that can help us find our true-north when we feel lost and aimless. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We all have the capacity to become - like Rabbi Barenblat’s poem suggests - resonating chambers of God’s Love, sending and receiving Divine Vibrations to heal the brokenness of our world. We can aspire to grow in this new year, to use our shofar-like voices to help and to comfort, and to truly listen to others and to ourselves. We can become whole again. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shanah Tovah!</span></p><br /><br /></span>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-10103217159607349132022-10-02T07:56:00.007-07:002022-10-02T08:00:47.798-07:00Rosh Hashanah, 5783/2022 - First Day Sermon<p><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">We don’t talk a lot about Moses on the High Holidays. Have you noticed that? As prominent as he is throughout our Jewish tradition, he’s kind of more of a Passover-guy, to be honest. Though also Shavuot, where we celebrate receiving the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai; he had something to do with that story too, I’m quite sure… But Rosh Hashanah? Not so much. However, when I sat down to write this sermon, I found myself thinking a lot about Moses. This time of year, when we read from the Torah at morning minyan and on Saturdays, we are in the Book of Deuteronomy, and indeed right at the very end of the entire Torah. In just another couple of weeks, we’ll get to the holiday of Simchat Torah, where we conclude and then restart the whole Torah. </span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-06aca079-7fff-779b-3d6d-8a6c49f318b7"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, with just a couple of weekly readings left, at this point, Moses already knows he won’t be leading the people forever, and specifically won’t get to enter the Promised Land. His speeches to them start to take on an urgency and even a desperate pleading; he knows he only has a short time left to get them ready for the daunting, nation-building task ahead. He knows they’re prone to complaining and rebelling against God, and they have this nasty habit of being lured away by various idolatrous practices. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Moses wants them to know that he has led them for a long time now, and really given everything of himself to this endeavor, and he hopes they will remember him and continue to learn from his teachings. But to be honest with you, he doesn’t exactly make it easy for them. At one point he states: “And now, O Israel, what does Adonai, Your God, demand of you? Only this: To fear Adonai, Your God, to walk in all of God’s Ways, to love God, and to serve God with all your heart and soul, keeping all of God’s commandments and statutes, which I command you this day.” (Deut. 10:12-13)</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Pretty easy, right? God doesn’t ask much. Just to love and revere and serve God with all of our heart and soul… oh, and just keep every single commandment too. It’s so simple, really, isn’t it? Um, no, it isn’t. That’s actually quite a lot. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Phrasing it like low-hanging fruit that anyone can do and observe, doesn’t make it any easier. Instead, I think it just makes people feel bad because they can’t possibly rise to that level. It’s an example of good Jewish-guilt, even in Biblical times! I guess that means we’re all failing God.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Well, that’s not how I feel about things, as I’m sure many of you already know about me. That’s not how I approach Judaism, the Torah, God, or my work with the congregants here at Ohev Shalom. Setting impossible standards doesn’t motivate, it intimidates. People very often apologize to me for falling short of some imagined standard of Jewish observance or religiosity, and that’s just not something I subscribe to or endorse.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Of course, you might then ask: What are we all doing here then, and what might we hope to get out of these High Holiday services? If we can’t be perfect, and therefore reject the expectation of perfection, why try at all? I have been thinking about this a lot, especially as I end my tenure here at Ohev, and I would like to suggest an approach. It is, in fact, my theme for this year’s High Holiday sermons:</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We aspire. We strive to be better and to keep improving, and that, ultimately, is the goal. Not the achievement itself, but the aspiration! Otherwise, we either tell ourselves we’re constantly failing, or we reject the notion that we need to work on ourselves at all. Both are unfortunate extremes, and neither is a good response to the task at hand. Instead, I encourage us all to let go of perfection and abandon our unobtainable, lofty goals. BUT we shouldn’t therefore have NO goals and NO aspirations. We still need to keep striving. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of my very favorite rabbinic quotes comes from Pirkei Avot, the Ethics of Our Sages, Chapter 2, teaching number 16: Rabbi Tarfon said, (Hebrew first) “You are not required to finish the task, but neither are you free to desist from it.” In other words, you don’t have to get straight A’s, hit a home run every time, score every touchdown, and always finish first. (Or insert your own metaphor for perfection here that you personally prefer.) You don’t have to be PERFECT! Let go of that myth and that expectation. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We sometimes tell ourselves, “yeah, but it motivates me. It makes me work harder and shoot for the stars.” But it can also harm us if we’re setting unrealistic and impossible standards for ourselves, because I think everyone here in this sanctuary knows that we are often our own worst critics. We speak harsher to ourselves than we would ever let anyone speak to us. So let’s not set ourselves up for failure before we even begin. It is not our responsibility to finish every task or to see everything through to the end.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">BUT, the second part of Rabbi Tarfon’s quote is essential too! We are still not free to just give up on it. We have to keep trying and aspiring. Now look, that IS a tough balance. I am fully aware of that. We have to both aspire and accept. Be kind to ourselves for not being flawless, but also push ourselves to be better each and every day. I can’t tell you where that perfect balance is for you, or for anyone else, but to me, *this* is the goal: To figure out how to challenge ourselves AND accept ourselves, all at the same time.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Of course, you might want to respond back: “But that’s not what Moses said. He was pretty clear that God expects, demands even, that we fulfill all the commandments, love God with everything we’ve got, and never stray from the path.” Furthermore, our High Holiday liturgy today, tomorrow, and throughout Yom Kippur, definitely seems to support that Biblical viewpoint, rather than the one I’m putting forward. Our prayers repeatedly talk about God writing our names in the Book of Life, judging our behavior and our decisions, and having high expectations for all of us. Pretty hard to get around all of that, wouldn’t you say? </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ll admit, it’s true; it’s hard to ignore God’s judgment and expectations, as articulated in the Bible and in our liturgy. But what if that’s only one way to understand God? What if we aren’t required to understand God in this very limiting and almost transactional relationship of Worshiped Divine Being and Worshipping Lowly Mortals? Is there room for us to change and shift how we interact with God? I think there is. And I am tremendously grateful to my colleague and friend, Rabbi Kelilah Miller, for introducing me to Rabbi Toba Spitzer’s book, “God is Here.” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rabbi Spitzer’s book really helped me articulate something I’ve been ruminating on for a long time, and gave me some wonderful tools for teaching this concept to all of you. The basic idea is: </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The way we think of God is actually just through metaphor. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What Rabbi Spitzer means is, when we talk about God, what we really mean is our desire and attempts to connect to something greater than ourselves. We look at the vastness of the ocean, the endless expanse of space, and the incredible intricacies of the cells and molecules in our bodies, and we feel something. We may, perhaps, feel that there is Something or Someone “out there,” beyond our understanding. But here’s the critical part: The way we try and imagine that Thing is through metaphor. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For some reason, we often think of metaphors as insufficient or inadequate; as if we use them only when we can’t accurately or fully describe something. But Rabbi Spitzer doesn’t think of metaphor that way. She writes, “metaphors provide the framework for how we understand and talk about much of what makes us human.” She points out how we use metaphors constantly, often without even realizing it. She gives examples like “kicking a bad habit.” There’s very little physical kicking involved, right? But we all get what it’s trying to say. We envision kicking something away from ourselves, definitively. So the idea still comes across. Another example is when we say we’re feeling “low” or “down.” It doesn’t mean low to the ground, right? Physically, tangibly down on the floor. It’s a metaphor that resonates in our very human brains. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Many things in this world can be measured and quantified and fact-checked… but what about concepts like love and elation, jealousy and hate. That’s where metaphors are especially essential, because they’re often all we’ve got to go on! These “intangibles” are very real issues that affect us every day, but are not “things” that we can literally - and metaphorically - put our finger on. What if, says Rabbi Spitzer, the Bible works much the same way, and indeed our understanding of God does as well? What if it is all metaphor; intended to help us envision and grasp the teachings of the Torah… but not meant to be literal descriptions of factual things?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Spitzer writes: “Our ancestors expressed their experiences of the realm of the sacred in fairly concrete ways, in stories about divine beings - or a Being - that metaphorically resembled humans and other living creatures. These stories were attempts to understand how the world came to be as it is, and how we can best navigate the world and the various forces that operate within it.” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Bible, says Rabbi Spitzer, is about relationship. And The Bible, says Rabbi Jeremy Gerber, is most definitely about relationship! This is not a text that is trying to explain the literal formation of the universe, or how many years it takes to traverse a desert, or how miracles could “actually” have occurred. That was never the point of any of the books; they are about the human desire - the aspiration - to be in relationship with something both outside of ourselves and within us as well. Something that created everything we see around us - and things we can’t see, whether out there or in here. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For our ancient ancestors, and for many of the Jewish authorities throughout the ages, the best way to understand that Something was through descriptions of God. God’s attributes, God’s commandments, God’s expectations of us. Describing God as a King, a Savior, an Avenger, and a Consoling Parent were some of the helpful ways for them to feel close to God. In the end, that’s really what so much of humanity has always been searching for; to feel close to Something vast and meaningful, spiritual and mysterious. Even the word for “sacrifice” in Hebrew - Korban - comes from the root, </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">karov</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, to be close. The sacrifices expressed our deep, visceral need to feel part of something vast and meaningful; to draw close to God.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The problem is, what if you reject that image of God as Big Person who controls and decides everything? What if that feels offensive when innocent people die, whether in a pandemic or a Holocaust? So many people read the High Holiday liturgy of Un’tane Tokef, declaring that God decides who will live and who will die, and they hate it. They reject it completely. To that I say, I get it… </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">but</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> don’t throw the baby out with the bath water, metaphorically speaking. What if, instead, we can change the metaphors, to envision a Divine force that isn’t A Big Person deciding our fate? That’s tough to do, I know. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Whether you’re 30, 60, or 90 years old, God has likely </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">always</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> been depicted as a King or Father, in Jewish contexts as well as throughout society. That, again, is why we need to strive to shift that perception. Because in the end, everything you’ve been taught is ALSO metaphor! We don’t “know” - in the factual, scientific, provable sense - Who or What God is; none of us do! So we form metaphors and images that help us aspire to feel close and connected to something bigger and more meaningful than just our own lives.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ok, so that is my main message throughout these High Holidays; the message I want to leave you with, in a sense, before my tenure has concluded… though hopefully not as definitively as Moses (who dies at the end of the Torah…). What I would like to do over the course of our holidays together is to examine some of Rabbi Spitzer’s proposed new metaphors for the Divine, and demonstrate how each can help us work on ourselves, aspiring to improve and become better people, while actually also still accepting and loving ourselves for who we are. It’s a very challenging balance to strike… but I think we’re up to the task!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, if we’re going to imagine God, not as a Ruler, Judge, Parent, Creator, Commander, and all the other Big Person depictions, what then? The first new metaphor that Rabbi Spitzer offers in her book is God as water. Well, what the heck does that mean? For each of these new metaphors, I want to look at 1) textual examples from the Torah to support the concept, 2) how we might then envision this Divine Force, and then, most critically, 3) how our relationship with God can indeed shift dramatically, based on this new image.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Water has a lot of prooftexts. Starting with the story of Creation - appropriate today, since Rosh Hashanah does indeed celebrate the birth of the world (metaphorically speaking…) - we read at the very, very beginning of Genesis that water existed BEFORE creation. As God prepares to create, verse two of the entire Torah tells us that a “Ruach Elohim,” a spirit of the Divine, hovered over the face of the water. Rabbi Spitzer explains and interprets this verse, writing: “The divine here appears to be surrounded by water, or perhaps It [God] is part of the primordial waters, emerging from the Deep.” </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">A paragraph later, she adds: “God is of the waters, over the waters, active in and through the waters.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She goes on to give examples from Exodus, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy as well, and then, later, Spitzer references a verse from the Prophet Isaiah, which even if you haven’t heard before in English, you likely would recognize in Hebrew: “ושאבתם מים בששון ממעיני הישועה” - “Joyfully you shall draw water from the Well of Liberation.” (Is. 12:3) Then she also adds a verse from the Prophet Jeremiah, describing God as “מקור מים חיים” - “The Fount of Living Waters” (Je. 2:13). While I don’t want to spend too much time on the verses themselves, I do want to share Rabbi Spitzer’s wonderful ability to take those metaphors and bring them to life for us. In thinking about God as a Well of Liberation or a Fount of Living Waters, Spitzer writes, “Water does not command or judge - it flows and irrigates, nourishes and sustains. God as Water invites us to identify when and how we become spiritually ‘dry,’ and what it might mean to feel spiritually nourished.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If we can all challenge ourselves - strive, in fact - to replace the image of God as Judge and Punisher, and instead envision a force that nourishes and sustains, how different does the High Holiday experience become?? She also talks about how God then no longer is out there, up in the heavens, but rather intimately close and connected to every one of us. When we say we’re made “בצלם אלוקים - in the Image of God” we could both understand that as referencing how the human body is made up of 70 percent water, and also how we are meant to nourish and sustain others around us, as well as the planet, rather than command and lord over one another.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m not saying this is our new image of God, or that we’re all now going to start worshiping water. This is about making our theology limber and - water-pun intended - fluid. This is actually quite critical, because when our understanding of God becomes stale and outdated, it doesn’t just atrophy, but it can actually become really harmful. Religious wars have almost always been about insisting that God is One Way - MY WAY - and nothing else could be true!! </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rigid theology can quickly become angry and violent theology… And when people’s theologies become immutable and unkind, they do things like revoke abortion rights and attack the LGBTQ community. The stakes are high here.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I want to also add that all of Rabbi Spitzer’s suggested new metaphors come with challenges and difficulties. This is NOT about simplifying our understanding of God, or turning it into something more pleasant and sweet and palatable. She goes on, in this chapter on water, to point out: “Water </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> life - and yet sometimes it is also That which threatens me, overwhelms me, drowns me.” It is important to remember that you have to respect the power of water. We see how dangerous too much water can be on the news almost every night! We ignore it at our own peril… which is also true of the power of theology. Our relationship with God sometimes can indeed harm us, shame us, make us feel laden with guilt, and leave us scarred for life… yet it can also fill our lives with meaning and purpose, a sense of connectedness to one another and to the vastness of the universe, and make us more kind and compassionate. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So I think our goal for this High Holiday season is to aspire to cultivate an evolving, dynamic relationship with God and with religion. That may sound like a tall order, but please don’t forget Rabbi Tarfon’s immortal words: You don’t have to finish the task, but you are also not free to desist from it. You don’t need to reach the mountain top, but you can’t stop climbing. The climb </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> the goal; the effort, the commitment, the aspiration to improve and grow, AND all the while we need to still love and accept ourselves. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Speaking of reaching mountain tops, that is indeed where Moses’ story ends. As he prepares to die, we might wonder if he achieved all his goals in life, or if he fell short, and was left with regrets. Surely he was disappointed and saddened that he never got to set foot in the Promised Land, but he also helped free a nation from slavery, bring a Pharaoh to his knees, lead the people through the wilderness for 40 years, gave them God’s Commandments and Torah, and set us on a course to become… </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Jewish People who continue to thrive 4,000 years later. But at the end, I’m sure he was also upset that he never got into the land. Nobody is perfect.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No one gets *everything* they wanted, even Moses. I think the real lesson is that perfection isn’t the goal, or the prize at the end of our lives. It isn’t to check every box, fulfill every dream, and leave this earth with nothing left to accomplish. No, the goal is to keep aspiring. Keep growing and evolving and flowing through life, nourishing the people around us and striving to lead a life of meaning, purpose, and compassion. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I finish this sermon (but I’ll be back again tomorrow!), I invite us all to hold on to the metaphor of the Fount of Living Waters. Each of us can aspire to be like a flowing fountain, watering our families, communities, and the whole planet with goodness, kindness, and purpose. In that way, we will truly be living our lives b’Tzelem Elohim, in the Image of God.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shanah Tovah!</span></p><br /><br /></span>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-46508851041895235142022-10-02T07:50:00.007-07:002022-10-02T07:50:55.336-07:00L'Chaim (newsletter) article, October, 2022: Making Sukkah Memories<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Greetings
from our synagogue Sukkah! Ok, it isn’t actually built when I’m writing this
(in early September). However, if you’re reading this article after October
9th, just picture me sitting on the Ohev Sukkah terrace, enjoying our lovely
communal hut, filled with decorations made by our Mispallelim religious school
students. It looks fabulous!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Every
year, we rebuild this structure for a mere eight days, yet it leaves memories
that people still sometimes share with me from years past. Like the legendary
phoenix, the Sukkah gets dismantled and disappears when the holiday is done…
only to be “reborn” again a year later. Our synagogue Sukkah is really quite
wonderful, but its true splendor comes, not from the decorations themselves,
but from the love and dedication put into the project by all its contributors.
What makes Sukkot such an enchanting holiday is its focus on creating a shared
experience. The Sukkah is open for all to enter. Its simplicity radiates warmth
and accessibility, and its educational message is not hard to grasp or
difficult to make relatable: We are connecting to our ancestors who also dwelt
in booths during the Exodus from Egypt, built them again later in the Ancient
land of Israel, and have continued to do so throughout Jewish history. Even in
this era of increased security and distancing, it’s nice to return to holidays
that really feature hospitality and welcoming.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">There
is something wonderfully tactile and natural about the celebration of Sukkot.
It’s the perfect holiday to help us transition away from the themes of Yom
Kippur. Where Yom Kippur is solemn, Sukkot is joyous. Yom Kippur focuses on the
mind and the internal, personal relationship to God; Sukkot celebrates
community and the physical acts of building, dancing, and shaking a lulav. Yom
Kippur has us fasting; Sukkot makes us forget hunger pretty quick!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Yet
like Yom Kippur (and every other Jewish holiday), Sukkot also affords us a
chance to reminisce about experiences of this holiday in different places, with
cherished loved ones, in years long since past. I remember huddling around a
space heater in a snow-covered Sukkah in Sweden. I recall a young (and slightly
eccentric) visiting rabbi in Stockholm, who built a mini-Sukkah on a window
ledge six stories above the ground, with no railing… and he slept in that
Sukkah for eight nights!! I am reminded of many years spent in the largest
Sukkah in North America, at JTS in New York, where pine needles rained down
into our food from the </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">schach</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">, the
Sukkah cover. The more hard-core among us just considered the pine needles an
added garnish in the soup… And I also call to mind walking the streets of
Jerusalem as a rabbinical student, seeing rows and rows of rooftop Sukkot,
overlooking the Old City and the most breath-taking sunset imaginable. How
about you? What do you think of, or remember, when we talk about Sukkot?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I hope you’ll come join a communal celebration in the Ohev
Sukkah this year. It’s even a Covid-compatible holiday, because it’s all
outdoors! In addition to daily services (not held outside) for the holiday, we
have Bible class in the Sukkah, brown bag lunch discussions on October 12, 13,
and 14, a Pizza in the Hut dinner, and to top it all off, the celebration of
Ben Friedman’s Bar Mitzvah on the 15th. An added bonus is that when you’re
sitting outside among bamboo poles, paper chains, and hanging gourds, you can’t
help but feel that autumn is in the air. It’s a terrific way to begin the new
Jewish year, and to dive right into all the programming taking place at Ohev
Shalom. Though I do still miss the Nordic snow and the pine needle garnish…</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Chag
Sameach – Happy Holidays!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Corsiva;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Rabbi Gerber</span></span></p>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-29144496362343279962022-09-23T16:29:00.008-07:002022-09-25T07:18:09.715-07:00Shanah Tovah!<p></p><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #800180; font-family: Lobster; font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">Shanah Tovah - Happy New Year!</span></h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwqotXrQ8jTt5XnTyOMWaPieAXcX9U9uDVIGGlcB8Z0ozLyOXKchC2MvR9oiCM-pmRNn9HiPWhGcPpkigSths8wPFP65oEEQQ2z-4VY47tCfrSFTbteyzpy7ylVOTjFoqpTh04Uh_JoXfDDQ4a2o-FIq0d5urm1Vqdrbg4Wxdh_kMeRCS3aXRSA9BGmw/s598/rosh%20hashanah.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="439" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwqotXrQ8jTt5XnTyOMWaPieAXcX9U9uDVIGGlcB8Z0ozLyOXKchC2MvR9oiCM-pmRNn9HiPWhGcPpkigSths8wPFP65oEEQQ2z-4VY47tCfrSFTbteyzpy7ylVOTjFoqpTh04Uh_JoXfDDQ4a2o-FIq0d5urm1Vqdrbg4Wxdh_kMeRCS3aXRSA9BGmw/w147-h200/rosh%20hashanah.jpg" width="147" /></a></div><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">Shanah Tovah, everyone!</span><p></p><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">I won't be writing a new blog post this week, as I'm preparing for the holiday of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, which starts tonight, Sunday. Every year, I write my main High Holiday sermons around a central, common theme. (You have to hear or read the sermons to find out this year's theme... :-p) After Rosh Hashanah, I will post the first two sermons in the series here on the blog, and then after Yom Kippur I will post the final two. I wish you all a wonderful holiday, and the start of a wonderful new year. May it be a year filled with new experiences, thought-provoking questions, growth, joy, love, and perhaps most importantly of all - for us and the entire world - peace.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">Shanah Tovah u'Metukah - May you have a Happy, Healthy, and Sweet New Year!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">Warmest regards,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">Rabbi Gerber</span><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBwgtSkiwySqF_z2VmD-CemorjmNgvwCv4vG9XhEXReqGq1F4RWvEuMNpxXib_PXVKkST9b4FYrSlicfcu2W8d9fO1A-iiKKxFiH-fDG8rUSctEYUS0PzTmCJ9h7YhIfHL-C9r4gJ4OBKmKobf-IpeGKoaQFGPHrG3mdACnHh-8i3XoEDpFrJ3RfOQ4g/s1024/3BBA6FA5-1BDA-4177-8A57-251C867C9152.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="577" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBwgtSkiwySqF_z2VmD-CemorjmNgvwCv4vG9XhEXReqGq1F4RWvEuMNpxXib_PXVKkST9b4FYrSlicfcu2W8d9fO1A-iiKKxFiH-fDG8rUSctEYUS0PzTmCJ9h7YhIfHL-C9r4gJ4OBKmKobf-IpeGKoaQFGPHrG3mdACnHh-8i3XoEDpFrJ3RfOQ4g/s320/3BBA6FA5-1BDA-4177-8A57-251C867C9152.jpeg" width="180" /></a></div><br /><div><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br /><br /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></div></div>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-47562552679783897842022-09-09T11:41:00.000-07:002022-09-09T11:41:16.496-07:00Ki Teitzei: What the Torah Expects of You<p> <i>I want to begin by acknowledging that I've been off the blog for several weeks. In part, it was sort of a summer hiatus, and in part I am trying to decide how and if to continue this blog. I've been writing about the weekly Torah portion for thirteen-plus years now, and it may be time for a new topic and/or format. Your feedback and opinions are welcome, by the way. In the meantime, I will continue writing through the end of Deuteronomy, but will likely stop writing after that, either temporarily or perhaps more permanently. I just wanted you, my readers, to be aware. Thanks for your understanding!</i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTmaAnW4B8lZJHK0d6ido41gtyIdnpmERyo7LzHkVJSgL7A3n4tm5F6b88E-r5hk_R_naX9tvizVgz2uXawW8NXoFrGXUHQ6wVcsWaWu8c3N3zL9qZ5YAPWNFY-88GXiS1kJT_3ZWLD0Z_M8FhC4-IPwaIQSHp0qv9ImurLpiXWhanHytu6khNwMZz7g/s1920/puzzle-pieces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1920" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTmaAnW4B8lZJHK0d6ido41gtyIdnpmERyo7LzHkVJSgL7A3n4tm5F6b88E-r5hk_R_naX9tvizVgz2uXawW8NXoFrGXUHQ6wVcsWaWu8c3N3zL9qZ5YAPWNFY-88GXiS1kJT_3ZWLD0Z_M8FhC4-IPwaIQSHp0qv9ImurLpiXWhanHytu6khNwMZz7g/w200-h200/puzzle-pieces.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>This week, our Torah portion offers a series of laws that have a common theme. I find it interesting that the text doesn't outright *name* the theme (though it does so elsewhere), yet it's hard to miss it when you put all the pieces together. Our synagogue follows the triennial cycle of readings, so our Torah portion this week begins at Deuteronomy, 24:14, and here's how the reading starts off (I'm paraphrasing for brevity):<p></p><p>- Do not abuse a needy or destitute laborer, whether a fellow countryman or a stranger.<br />- Pay people their wages on the same day (i.e. in the proper time).<br />- No one should not be put to death for someone else's crimes, even family members.<br />- Do not subvert the rights of vulnerable people in society.<br />- Leave some of your field for the poor and the needy.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZl8vbE3xf9kV6z7W9sqkC2WuZA3np-ARru2i_IHXYHapDY12MnZDZBRSSorBqTGlxvgq5Er6pfO5UdEed484jYmCB_CEuqEpEaf6STBaYrZE6eTi-rEPK9cCCZ_wIkr1WQKlC9a2XU67vvU4NzUUCaHVruJAcrqW_ON-C8yEuipRcxcz-KuvxTHqxJw/s1024/working%20the%20field.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="678" data-original-width="1024" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZl8vbE3xf9kV6z7W9sqkC2WuZA3np-ARru2i_IHXYHapDY12MnZDZBRSSorBqTGlxvgq5Er6pfO5UdEed484jYmCB_CEuqEpEaf6STBaYrZE6eTi-rEPK9cCCZ_wIkr1WQKlC9a2XU67vvU4NzUUCaHVruJAcrqW_ON-C8yEuipRcxcz-KuvxTHqxJw/w200-h133/working%20the%20field.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I imagine you can see the theme as well as I can, right? Take care of those who either can't take care of themselves, or who have a lower status than you in society. You may be in a position to take advantage of them - clearly the ability is there and you won't face immediate consequences - but God will know, and just don't do it. The reason why I wanted to highlight the theme specifically, is because I think sometimes people get bogged down in the details. "Oh, sure," someone might say, "this applies if I own a field, or am meting out capital punishment, or have laborers working on my property... but I don't live in ancient times! None of this applies to me." Which is why I want to divert our attention away from the specific scenarios and instead focus on the overarching principle.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4A6wfsnJHZedCBwNZc1kmZrqbYo5jix3eN8wAV2KDDi21jhWqKvGj1iwFUmVXtAaCsWXVVDXtXn1bTovY3bhy2cX9Zvdo6YHtOxJyeEjfXPOr1W41KGVTBI2cyGZHuLUHngcJLWUkwWIv3YDNbQl_tzkw9RsojNJJ6INu1pxEtfsrEAbhlQeM_DRaMQ/s242/hands%20in%20a%20circle.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="208" data-original-width="242" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4A6wfsnJHZedCBwNZc1kmZrqbYo5jix3eN8wAV2KDDi21jhWqKvGj1iwFUmVXtAaCsWXVVDXtXn1bTovY3bhy2cX9Zvdo6YHtOxJyeEjfXPOr1W41KGVTBI2cyGZHuLUHngcJLWUkwWIv3YDNbQl_tzkw9RsojNJJ6INu1pxEtfsrEAbhlQeM_DRaMQ/w200-h172/hands%20in%20a%20circle.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>The idea that the Torah is putting forth, is that every person in society has obligations towards that shared community. In America, we hear a lot of people touting individual liberties above everything else, and the concept of certain "inalienable rights." Now, I would never disagree with each person's rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit (though not guarantee...) of happiness. However, the Torah is reminding us that our personal desires and interests are not the only factor at play. We are also part of a network of interconnected parts and people, and sometimes we are required to focus less on ourselves and more on the system as a whole.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwRNLoQWU349fs8SKYOKGC3AoUMjsbkKgwv67A5Kqw_fOtVUZQeJazbzrmbShFX_yW_GPFlGAoJQB51tZfXk55TCAYF4CWwUupzri9gfla909Sn9p2bwRLD6WR3lxJc7JIr67qnYdWLi7qje5u0u_0DnmWy9r-RhFNqSxrB3DRpdevvoLq7TzCefHSw/s276/strive%20quote.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="276" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwRNLoQWU349fs8SKYOKGC3AoUMjsbkKgwv67A5Kqw_fOtVUZQeJazbzrmbShFX_yW_GPFlGAoJQB51tZfXk55TCAYF4CWwUupzri9gfla909Sn9p2bwRLD6WR3lxJc7JIr67qnYdWLi7qje5u0u_0DnmWy9r-RhFNqSxrB3DRpdevvoLq7TzCefHSw/w200-h133/strive%20quote.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>As we work our way through the Jewish month of Elul, in which we prepare ourselves daily for the upcoming holidays of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur (blowing shofar in morning minyan and reciting a Psalm for the Season of Repentance), I urge each of us to think about this concept. Don't get too focused on the literal subjects of day laborers, courts punishing people, and what you're supposed to do with your field. What about sharing your income, resources, time, and energy with people less fortunate than you? What about speaking up on behalf of people who are being abused or taken advantage of, either within our country or around the world? Or abused animals, or the very planet itself? These laws in Deuteronomy 24 really do apply to all of us. We are never asked to be perfect or flawless, but we are indeed expected to strive to be better; to aspire to keep making the world (around us as well as globally) a little bit better every day. And that idea never gets old.<p></p><p><br /></p><p>CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:<br />1. <a href="https://www.publicdomainpictures.net/en/view-image.php?image=25246&picture=puzzle-pieces">Publicdomainpictures.net</a><br />2. <a href="https://picryl.com/media/somali-farmers-working-in-the-fields-in-kismayo-24b18b">Picryl.com</a><br />3. <a href="https://pxhere.com/en/photo/1244146">pxhere.com</a><br />4. Smart Chicago Collaborative on Wikimedia Commons (it's a quote attributed to Albert Einstein that states, "Strive not to be just a success, but to be of value.")</p><p><br /></p>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-50134677363594914422022-09-08T12:33:00.000-07:002022-09-08T12:33:00.964-07:00L'Chaim (newsletter) article, September, 2022: Striving for Balance in the New Year<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">Striving
for Balance in the New Year</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">It’s hard to believe, but we are about to enter our third High Holiday
season of the Covid-era. And it really has turned into an era, hasn’t it?
Remember when the pandemic first began, and we thought we were shutting down
“normal” operations for a week or two? Obviously (we told ourselves), once this
crazy thing blew over, it would be back to business as usual. Oy. Then we
gradually realized it would be going on for longer - a lot longer - and once we
entered the second year and the conversation shifted to one new strain after
another, people really started to accept the concept of “a new normal.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt;">So, here we are in year three. The good news is, the fatality rates
have dropped significantly, and we’re (please God) hopefully entering the phase
where Covid is another version of the flu; requiring vigilance and inoculation,
but not causing widespread existential dread. With the High Holidays just a few
weeks away, this is a good time for us to reflect on what has remained the same
and what has changed. What new things, for better and for worse, have we had to
embrace or at least acquiesce to incorporating into our lives? And what have we
had to let go of to function and to adjust? So many things seem vastly
different, before Covid vs. after.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;">Yet, at the same time, our values and needs are in many ways still the
same. How we feel about family, community, and the world around us persists,
despite some new considerations. And it is this balance that I invite us all to
hold onto as we enter the Yamim Noraim, the Days of Awe (a.k.a. The High
Holidays). In Judaism, we sometimes talk about “Keva” and “Kavanah.” Keva
refers to fixed prayers that repeat service after service, day after day,
century after century; e.g. the Shema, Amidah, Aleinu, and Kaddish. Some stuff remains
the same, and that helps us feel safe, comfortable, familiar, and a sense of
belonging. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt;">But there’s also Kavanah, meaning “spirituality” or “intention,” and
very often this requires newness, change, updating, and fresh approaches. We
are encouraged to offer our own individual, unique prayers, and through those
prayers perhaps view ourselves and the world around us with a fresh
perspective. And this is my hope for all of us as we enter the High Holidays.
Let us hold onto what is the same year after year and feels safe and reassuring
- the Sanctuary, the familiar tunes, and the cycle of Jewish holidays. Yet
let’s also embrace the “new normal” of hybrid services with a zoom component,
and the ways that our lives feel different this year from every year that came
before.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt;">We need a healthy balance of Tradition and Change. It is true for
navigating a post-pandemic world, how we should think about Jewish prayer, and
perhaps also for how we live our lives. It is good to feel comfortable, yet
it’s also imperative that we challenge ourselves to do new (and sometimes
scary) things. Rosh Hashanah is still a few weeks away. I hope we can all use
this time to find our Keva *and* our Kavanah, and enter the new year with both
a sense of belonging and groundedness, yet also feeling ready (and maybe even
excited?) for whatever changes still await us.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Shanah Tovah u’Metukah - I wish everyone a Happy, Healthy, and Sweet
New Year!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Sincerely,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Rabbi Gerber</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-65402842382613969792022-08-05T12:17:00.000-07:002022-08-05T12:17:20.999-07:00Devarim (Shabbat Chazon): Doom and Gloom… and Celebration Too<p>This Shabbat, we are starting the fifth Book of Moses, called “Devarim” or “Deuteronomy.” In addition, it is the Shabbat before Tisha b’Av, which is a day of mourning and commemoration on the Jewish calendar. And the Shabbat immediately preceding Tisha b’Av is always called “Shabbat Chazon,” meaning the “Shabbat of Vision.” The vision that we’re talking about, however, is unfortunately not an uplifting or joyous one, but rather the first prophecy expressed by Isaiah, filled with words of rebuke and predictions of doom. It isn’t easy to sit with these emotions of grief and sadness, but I think it’s really quite necessary. Tisha b’Av primarily recalls the destructions of both Temples in Jerusalem (in 587 BCE and 70 CE), along with many other calamities that have befallen our ancestors over the course of millennia. Is it fun to talk about death and destruction, or to have to listen to Isaiah’s words of anger and frustration? No, but think about what it can yield for us all on the other end.</p><p>It’s important to think of Tisha b’Av in the context of what we might call “normal” grief, i.e. when a loved one dies and we’re mourning a personal loss. If we don’t acknowledge our sadness and allow ourselves to cry, we can’t process what has happened, and it is very difficult to move on and begin to heal. For both our national grief and our personal grief, the goal is not to “get over” our mourning and forget about our loss, but rather to incorporate it into our lives in a healthier way. Tisha b’Av clearly isn’t joyful and celebratory, but perhaps by allowing ourselves to be fully present to what our ancestors endured, we can appreciate our festivities more completely. After all, if those calamities had been worse, we wouldn’t still be here to talk about them, so the very fact of our being able to remember and retell our history is a major cause for celebration!</p><p>I would also add that not every occasion needs to be about merriment and feasting. Tisha b’Av is always one of the most spiritual and impactful services for me personally, despite its unpleasant theme. We sit in a dimly lit sanctuary late in the evening (on Saturday night at 8pm), we chant the beautiful Book of Lamentations, and we reflect and introspect. I certainly enjoy many of our other holidays as well, but there is something ancient and powerful about Tisha b’Av that just doesn’t come out for me in many other days on our calendar. I know Saturday night isn’t the most convenient time, and maybe I haven’t sold it very well for you, but I nevertheless encourage you to come and experience it for yourselves. It’s really unlike any other observance we have.</p><p>Whether you’re able to attend or not, I also invite you to think about the importance of embracing the wide spectrum of our emotions. Some feel easier to sit with and enjoy, while others can feel painful or uncomfortable. I get it. But that’s also what it means to be a human being, isn’t it? I certainly know it’s a vital part of what it means to be a Jew. In fact, I would argue that our healthy, repeated, persistent engagement with ALL aspects of our history is one of the great powers of the Jewish People, and a major reason why you and I are still here, able to talk about it all! On Shabbat Chazon, we may be chanting a literal doom-and-gloom prophetic vision. And even though Isaiah’s prophecies did come true for the people living at that time, it is also true that we are still here. The Jewish People are still here and able to observe all the sacred occasions on our calendar, and experience all the emotions that come with them. So yes, we will be chanting a pretty sad text. But our very ability to chant that text is itself a cause for celebration. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-7239475046262702452022-07-08T10:58:00.002-07:002022-07-08T10:58:21.939-07:00Chukat: I See Your Calf and Raise You a Snake<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDG9--zBKKCxic8mGqC8xvI_NwHWe-2TdTHXKhtaMU_FsQ1n5-h8ePcTkRs5wR6nqtVe9WXxExLule4szQXb57p4Gz2Gh6Biuz88Xihyu1xNCvPbCMyzGa4jjiOGOfiqrtqGjQXAMPgOf1vqSuhW0ShTBXi2ffr5Q4hnvFpoH4pK8_-z1VybwK7xiAJg/s4150/idol%20figurines.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2692" data-original-width="4150" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDG9--zBKKCxic8mGqC8xvI_NwHWe-2TdTHXKhtaMU_FsQ1n5-h8ePcTkRs5wR6nqtVe9WXxExLule4szQXb57p4Gz2Gh6Biuz88Xihyu1xNCvPbCMyzGa4jjiOGOfiqrtqGjQXAMPgOf1vqSuhW0ShTBXi2ffr5Q4hnvFpoH4pK8_-z1VybwK7xiAJg/w200-h130/idol%20figurines.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Even if you're not that familiar with the Torah or all the stories contained within it, you probably know a few central ideas. You might have heard of Adam & Eve, Noah, Abraham, slavery in Egypt, the Ten Commandments, and a handful of other key points. One such concept that I think is pretty well-known is that you're not supposed to make graven images. No idols, no statues for worshipping, no house gods of any shape or size, and just no bowing down to, or praying to, anyone or anything but God. And the most infamous example of what not to do has got to be the Golden Calf, which the Israelites built in the desert and venerated as if it were a god. And clearly, based on that story, we all learned that no such images or statues can be used in ANY way. Right?? Well... yes and no. This week, our Torah reading offers us a surprising and bewildering example of a permitted statue, and - just like so many other stories in the Bible - it leaves us with more questions than answers. As it should be.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgKxv93yJdBgpyQbQhnpab9W9Wu2FBY26Qf0ymBqUnWn5GZi20xUkhBQxXgh-XdzMeMmAZqL2BmWgtPr-6Ajwrf5RCPFNeHQps0UVs9RGW-0zfIO1PhDzBg-VGlfA5agqofIsFQix1-SDKPjjFdcDwG__3bkU-WnYZd9zrgBdFmat7oCV5f8mDIkdGbw/s255/blue%20viper%20snake.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="255" data-original-width="198" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgKxv93yJdBgpyQbQhnpab9W9Wu2FBY26Qf0ymBqUnWn5GZi20xUkhBQxXgh-XdzMeMmAZqL2BmWgtPr-6Ajwrf5RCPFNeHQps0UVs9RGW-0zfIO1PhDzBg-VGlfA5agqofIsFQix1-SDKPjjFdcDwG__3bkU-WnYZd9zrgBdFmat7oCV5f8mDIkdGbw/w155-h200/blue%20viper%20snake.jpeg" width="155" /></a></div>It starts the same way too many other stories from this time period already have, namely with the people rebelling against Moses, Aaron, and especially God. The people bark at their leaders: "Why did you make us leave Egypt to die in this wilderness?!? There is no bread and no water, and we have come to loathe this miserable food [the manna]!" (Numbers 21:5) By this point, God is getting pretty darn fed up with these ingrates, and God sends against the people a plague of poisonous, deadly snakes! When the people inevitably repent and cry out for help, God instructs Moses to do something most surprising: "Make a <i>seraph </i>[winged snake] figure and mount it on a standard. And if anyone who is bitten looks at it, he shall recover." (v. 8) So I guess part of the message we're meant to take from this is, calves are bad and snakes are good? Now, we should acknowledge that God directing Moses to do something is quite a bit different than the people just erecting a statue on their own. Nor does anyone ever call out to the flying-snake-thingy: "This is your god, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt" as they did for the Golden Calf in Exodus, 32:4. Nevertheless, I think the use of an animal statue is understandably confusing... <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujVrhxx1x2fb2j5K9uVJYGkA5p04Wh_uzIgOTpU70SoRhm38AS_Pl8lEwfsoOeJ1i5bpeCOnSY8T_yo4udL9xCY5Sh1woOxEgrvoaxTS5hr_OWr9JDSCQmTpxb8Yj-ln1UBW-yxm3oc6Htw5_BWdC7qJjf6OOBPpviayzGeFl-oWcnUjj_jzLbcTNcg/s1200/shattered%20pieces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujVrhxx1x2fb2j5K9uVJYGkA5p04Wh_uzIgOTpU70SoRhm38AS_Pl8lEwfsoOeJ1i5bpeCOnSY8T_yo4udL9xCY5Sh1woOxEgrvoaxTS5hr_OWr9JDSCQmTpxb8Yj-ln1UBW-yxm3oc6Htw5_BWdC7qJjf6OOBPpviayzGeFl-oWcnUjj_jzLbcTNcg/w133-h200/shattered%20pieces.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>I also feel it necessary to point out that our fears regarding the serpent-statue are not unfounded. Centuries after the Exodus, we find an intriguing reference back to this mystical healing device in the Second Book of Kings, during the religious reformations under King Hezekiah: "He [Hezekiah] abolished the shrines and smashed the pillars and cut down the sacred post. <i>He also broke into pieces the bronze serpent that Moses had made, for until that time the Israelites had been offering sacrifices to it; it was called Nechushtan</i>." (II Kings, 18:4) Despite God's best intentions, some people simply couldn't resist the urge to offer sacrifices TO the snake-statue as a graven image. The commentaries speculate wildly about what's going on here. One perspective suggests God used a snake to remind the Israelites of the conniving serpent that misled Adam & Eve back in the Garden of Eden. That snake was punished for his incendiary words; and the Israelites were similarly punished for their own inflammatory attacks on God and Moses. Another commentary posits that the serpent is a poignant symbol of how dangerous the desert can be, and might help remind the Israelites that the only reason they've been surviving for 40 years is because of God's favor.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfGgPIS3zM_oFvt4mSDK8DZgad5d_8Y2sLj6JHYjP4um36Vh_QqxMGNsNw90XVi_ZtG5-mOgskyDv51FwUtQcPRoNOHgj4AW7_omJw0muj2_1r14qqwkJCIvU_EsZcwBn9eXwcKuZks5Rvswyortt6vV34uyJfnQd60KxUVp6VwGZS5DDJpTZfDVquuQ/s1920/little-girl-hiding-behind-tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1280" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfGgPIS3zM_oFvt4mSDK8DZgad5d_8Y2sLj6JHYjP4um36Vh_QqxMGNsNw90XVi_ZtG5-mOgskyDv51FwUtQcPRoNOHgj4AW7_omJw0muj2_1r14qqwkJCIvU_EsZcwBn9eXwcKuZks5Rvswyortt6vV34uyJfnQd60KxUVp6VwGZS5DDJpTZfDVquuQ/w133-h200/little-girl-hiding-behind-tree.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>To me, an important lesson that comes from this story is intentionality. The same act can be either a destructive transgression or a source of healing. Similarly, when we express a sentiment to another person, our decision to infuse our comment with kindness versus passive-aggression versus outright hostility can change everything about how it's received. Even the energy with which we express ourselves can vastly alter our words, regardless of whether we do so intentionally or not. Perhaps the text is suggesting that have to be mindful of ourselves and how we are perceived by others all the time. We cannot hide behind saying a certain act or a particular phrase "always" means one thing and not another, it's much more complex than that. Our body language, our energy, our facial expressions, our intentions, and our tone of voice; all of them contribute to how we are perceived and how our sentiments are understood. At times, the text can seem inconsistent, as if it's prioritizing one act over a seemingly identical one elsewhere, possibly for arbitrary reasons. But those moments invite us to look closer, read more sensitively, and pay more attention to nuance, contrast, and intention. When we do that, we can learn so much more from the text, and even learn more about our own behaviors as well.<p></p><p><br /></p><p>CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:<br />1. <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ancient_Canaanite_Teraphim._Figurines_of_fertility_goddess._Wellcome_M0008439.jpg">Wellcome Images</a> on <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/">Wikimedia Commons</a><br />2. <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Blue_Viper_Snake.jpg">7ustalvin</a> on <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/">Wikimedia Commons</a><br />3. <a href="https://www.rawpixel.com/search?page=1&similar=2368080&sort=curated">Jubjang</a> on <a href="https://www.rawpixel.com/">Rawpixel</a><br />4. <a href="https://www.publicdomainpictures.net/en/view-image.php?image=267583&picture=little-girl-hiding-behind-tree">Sheila Brown</a> on <a href="https://www.publicdomainpictures.net/">PublicDomainPictures</a></p><p><br /></p>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-15302242036147110962022-07-01T14:55:00.004-07:002022-07-01T15:59:34.607-07:00Korach (repost from 2011): The Challenge of Feedback Continues<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8uJQ2PMpJ6XkjaAiJPU4h-mbCzRXaUBZUlqYl2m8rJ3dcH71hF2JBW8ilzESTfy4dzFjyp0ZyF1k7Sc9neMhcFRBx-6lJyq2rvAs9k108G8NyTq0vHQsZHqReAsih0ZMR1mk8d7unFA/s1600/gift+wrapped.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621477470344797458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8uJQ2PMpJ6XkjaAiJPU4h-mbCzRXaUBZUlqYl2m8rJ3dcH71hF2JBW8ilzESTfy4dzFjyp0ZyF1k7Sc9neMhcFRBx-6lJyq2rvAs9k108G8NyTq0vHQsZHqReAsih0ZMR1mk8d7unFA/s200/gift+wrapped.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 133px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 200px;" /></a></p><div style="text-align: left;">O<span>ne of the hardest gifts to receive is critique. We talked about this</span><span> </span><a href="http://takeontorah.blogspot.com/2011/05/tough-gift-to-give.html">a few weeks ago</a><span>, when I wrote that</span><span> </span><i>Tochecha</i><span>, rebuke, is a present that we give one another, that can help us learn, grow, and improve. But unfortunately, it's never as easy as that. Feedback gets taken the wrong way, someone feels offended, and relationships end in the blink of an eye. And so rather than dealing with the perilous realm of critique, we keep our mouths shut</span><span style="font-size: large;">.</span></div><p></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621478066939756978" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4mprnoYOT3O6fwMdYNhQVEgjR4o41OSz3DbP7jKVvYK52qibl3xNc2K8m_xAKvp5d-2Ia5qJIYMlQBUSh-WRCzh_buC3H_SNI0Vxoxu59bVv-w_P-xNTAB0XSm6ic0E_M5JkZOzowys/s200/surveillance+camera.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 134px;" />That was my blog post from a few weeks ago. This week, I would like to explore the other side of the same issue; the person refusing to accept the feedback. What if we're not the person trying to make a "friendly" observation; what if we're the one being observed? We need to ask ourselves: Am I willing to be open to comments, even if they're painful and might require serious introspection and maybe even change? In our current Torah portion, we see that even Moses - one of our greatest leaders - struggles with this very question.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">At the start of the <i>parasha</i>, we are told that a <img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621479582223880306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrLxU0Uh82MUDUbxB5ZwYJrpLIcvm3Zy4HdX7-YSg3AsOPMjMVO_iPKeTTnLOfeuhyphenhyphenD7XFgY8AGEZt_lm5awASZuhPcexGz0R2pjpfU1iYajIR4fNfnGyfS9etvTAMilUY8aZ9DsF_2uE/s200/Korach.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 150px;" />relative</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> of Moses, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Korach, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"betook himself... to rise</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">up</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> against Moses"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">(Num. 16:1-2). Together with his band of rebels, </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Korach declares,</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> "You </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Lord is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above the Lord's congregation?" (16:3) The attack is directed squarely at Moses, and his role as the leader of the Israelites. Yet in Moses' response to the attack, he amazingly redirects the criticism, stating: "Truly it is against the Lord that you and all your company have banded together. For who is Aaron that you should rail against him?" (16:11) Aaron? Why does Moses claim the attack is against Aaron? Or against God? Could it really be that Moses thinks Korach is angry at both God and Aaron, yet <u>not</u> angry at him??? I am amazed at how Moses deflects the issue and paints himself as a mediator on the sideline.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" color="rgb(0 , 0 , 238)" style="line-height: normal;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621480036758448786" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT8SMiur_lG_K2AR-tK6itNjJCpjEVXv9qC2KlML6Uv1LVOpX6h1Eaj58askUN68z9EnEU7PHn5i-no5VL1d2TxfSCBkSWOwXLFI8QXt83gtpgY8jCuufsZ4heiNGLNCj-eYx56kYe_Mk/s200/jump+through+fiery+hoop.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 135px;" /></span>But don't we ourselves act the same way? When someone tries to criticize us, we too find reasons why it isn't really applicable. The person was rude or crazy; the comment was unwarranted or unfair; we tell ourselves that other people do the same thing, so why was I being singled out for criticism??? We'll jump through endless hoops to avoid having to confront the possibility that we aren't perfect. How differently might this Biblical feud have ended if Moses had sat down with Korach and tried to understand his issues? Feedback, critique, even criticism; they all open the door for new opportunities. They give us a chance to grow and become better people.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621480924272468914" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuiMfBOnQfqTJ2vCANg3tV69_YVCgKl2kQ_sVjJBfALvDXkKIb25VwHo5vgR6fBrdfkKdrL6FNunAxVtdncegALLriV7wP9etXb1jarEqnKHXLb4_qHAgH4tYK29m5c7Xy0aV4Du7cg74/s200/throwing+chair.jpg" style="color: #0000ee; cursor: pointer; float: right; font-size: 15px; height: 184px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 200px;" />The rabbis of the Talmud ask and answer an important question: "Who is wise? One who learns from all people" (Pirkei Avot, 4:1). Note that it says, "from <b>all</b> people." It's easy to learn from teachers, scholars, even an occasional rabbi. It's harder to learn from someone who is offering rebuke; though perhaps there is all the more to learn from that person. If/when you are</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> feeling attacked, try to take a step back and not lash out right </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">away. And don't deflect </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">their </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">observations. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Be curious about your own emotions, allow yourself time to reflect on what they are saying, and try to seize the precious opportunity to learn something. You may be surprised at what you discover, and you may even wind up thanking them... well, maybe eventually.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span color="rgb(0 , 0 , 0)"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span color="rgb(0 , 0 , 0)"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span color="rgb(0 , 0 , 0)"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">P</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">hotos in this blog post:</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">1. CC image courtesy of <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/esoterika/5348609982/">erika g.</a> on <a href="http://www.flickr.com/" style="color: #cc0000; text-decoration-line: none;">Flickr</a></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">2. CC image courtesy of <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/paradiseranche/3656730011/">paradiseranche</a> on <a href="http://www.flickr.com/" style="color: #cc0000; text-decoration-line: none;">Flickr</a></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">3. CC image courtesy of <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/castle_life/5732988285/">barry.pousman</a> on <a href="http://www.flickr.com/" style="color: #cc0000; text-decoration-line: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" color="rgb(204 , 0 , 0)">Flickr</span></a></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">4. CC i<span class="Apple-style-span" color="rgb(21 , 34 , 43)" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" color="rgb(21 , 34 , 43)" style="line-height: 20px;">mage courtesy of <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/kissheartoffl/3942070576/">Kissimmee - The Heart of Florida</a> on <a href="http://www.flickr.com/" style="color: #cc0000; text-decoration-line: none;">Flickr</a></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">5. CC i<span class="Apple-style-span" color="rgb(21 , 34 , 43)" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" color="rgb(21 , 34 , 43)" style="line-height: 20px;">mage courtesy of <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lazurite/3672672495/">Lazurite</a> on <a href="http://www.flickr.com/" style="color: #cc0000; text-decoration-line: none;">Flickr</a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" color="rgb(21 , 34 , 43)" style="line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-44740273458557248022022-06-23T12:53:00.000-07:002022-06-23T12:53:07.950-07:00Sh’lach Lecha: Who Puts the "Ger" in Stranger?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuFhsd-46CXzxEVoQo_QDl9mADVq0KapPBmJ9q3F4PvCb6jq_hlJ8L7wDk2ic6PW2jyr3D_oFRR5dM31Wh8U3MvefdJiNuKEU5M-c0f3d__YJSwqIqAQ1GENdb1Ip5CyiGAF83b8WVRVp4MqdhjEyDXyKT6oaVoR4v9Qt2Q3d9srN2tjprtTweDczOOQ/s1024/historical%20thesaurus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="668" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuFhsd-46CXzxEVoQo_QDl9mADVq0KapPBmJ9q3F4PvCb6jq_hlJ8L7wDk2ic6PW2jyr3D_oFRR5dM31Wh8U3MvefdJiNuKEU5M-c0f3d__YJSwqIqAQ1GENdb1Ip5CyiGAF83b8WVRVp4MqdhjEyDXyKT6oaVoR4v9Qt2Q3d9srN2tjprtTweDczOOQ/w131-h200/historical%20thesaurus.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>One wonderful and infinitely complex aspect of the Torah text - in general - revolves around the issue of interpretation. It’s so hard to say “the Torah says…” because every time you translate something, you have to choose between synonyms to decide the nuance, tone, and intention of what you think the original text says. This week, we find a critical example of this ambiguity in one pivotal word that affected our ancient ancestors and still (maybe more so) affects us today. It caught my eye, because the Torah restates this commandment in back-to-back verses. Ok, so let’s “ger” right into it, shall we? <p></p><p>In Numbers, chapter 15, verses 15-16, we read: </p><p><i>“15: There shall be one law for you and for the resident stranger; it shall be a law for all time throughout the ages. You and the stranger shall be alike before Adonai. 16: the same ritual and the same rule shall apply to you and to the stranger who resides among you.”</i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2WYqb4RoTkrdl7Wr1rsRdPW-kDMU0YlLEYBW3lD_kMEzVSr1XvmNOhIuVYf1240l7AvjoJ7wG6ckEos7ts3YT4h8Tak8QFvM-Oycx--7A-Dy7QqcJ8GBo9slC8Ve5ExRcC6Lv3RoB0Wh_QsBa8cTkzBdDIc1I43KMduZLVh1ZpMVwUQjT-5STq3r6A/s2400/stranger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="2400" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2WYqb4RoTkrdl7Wr1rsRdPW-kDMU0YlLEYBW3lD_kMEzVSr1XvmNOhIuVYf1240l7AvjoJ7wG6ckEos7ts3YT4h8Tak8QFvM-Oycx--7A-Dy7QqcJ8GBo9slC8Ve5ExRcC6Lv3RoB0Wh_QsBa8cTkzBdDIc1I43KMduZLVh1ZpMVwUQjT-5STq3r6A/w200-h133/stranger.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Perhaps surprisingly, the ambiguous word in those verses - and indeed throughout the Torah - is “stranger.” The word in Hebrew is “Ger,” and a big question that we need to clarify is, who is the stranger? Is it just someone who is unfamiliar to you personally? Or someone who resides with you temporarily, but not permanently? Is this someone who was not born Jewish but who converted? Or a non-Jewish individual who has no intention of converting, but who nevertheless lives with you? What complicates the matter is that it’s used in all of the above ways throughout the Torah. In Genesis, Abraham refers to himself as a Ger, meaning he’s an outsider with no claims to land and no status among the Hittites where he lives (but he certainly hasn't converted to their religion, nor does he have any plans to). In Exodus, the Jewish People are repeatedly reminded by God that we were “strangers (Gerim) in the land of Egypt.” But again, the Israelites weren't converts TO Egyptian culture, but merely status-less outsiders. Yet when the text later talks about Gerim living among us - like in our <i>parashah - </i>most commentators translate this as “convert” or “proselyte.” And the implications are significant.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhYsaCt5sbJw532JlxbIn85xBm_j5ajDRkFliEphCjZnWtU7-IR8mKTXLxKFtVqHt3rHQbzIlHpef87Zmwl9LkEmuzCzMvHh9bH6Vsg9woGeOAgetdDeJLk4oxNRicGRG4fFe-0mEE40Wa34MwDlp8tThwPCH_6Y0jmasEBmpDHMDXP33r8M_y7gR2g/s640/Maimonides%20Stamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="245" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhYsaCt5sbJw532JlxbIn85xBm_j5ajDRkFliEphCjZnWtU7-IR8mKTXLxKFtVqHt3rHQbzIlHpef87Zmwl9LkEmuzCzMvHh9bH6Vsg9woGeOAgetdDeJLk4oxNRicGRG4fFe-0mEE40Wa34MwDlp8tThwPCH_6Y0jmasEBmpDHMDXP33r8M_y7gR2g/w77-h200/Maimonides%20Stamp.jpg" width="77" /></a></div>Why does this matter? Well, when the Torah commands us to take care of the poor, the orphan, the widow... and "the stranger" in our midst, is it talking only about converts (and thus perhaps only concerned with taking care of fellow Jews), or about all people, including non-Jews? Most classic rabbinic commentaries defer to the convert-translation. One of the most famous of these was Rambam (or Maimonides) who wrote a thousand years ago: "All [occurrences of the term] 'Ger' which are said regarding gifts to the poor are nothing other than a 'Ger Tzedek' (i.e. a convert)." Personally, I am dismayed by this assertion, because I read our texts as absolutely commanding us to be kind and considerate to *all* people, regardless of religion, race, ethnicity, or any other defining characteristic. How unfortunate that, when our texts already have multiple instances of commandments directing us to take care of fellow Jews, and here we have an opportunity to expand the circle and extend God's Love more broadly, so many authorities choose instead to read it as yet another example of taking care of our own.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjr55g6PTl2atCeVJWWGQy6evj4FVdfLtQ8zW9xYGdbtFl9NRLeJ_Mj_ADKZY5nHRITOX9xqI310no5-2JdBUodcGd3CLYscviAq6Xsi5F3P3s_A8tpq3v2SUq0u07ANeYx5y3UnVzMCcnO5TzW8f_2FufgEqv58uwDa_dIhiWN4rTKD3jjBlmyou2Q/s1024/Berlin%20Wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="1024" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjr55g6PTl2atCeVJWWGQy6evj4FVdfLtQ8zW9xYGdbtFl9NRLeJ_Mj_ADKZY5nHRITOX9xqI310no5-2JdBUodcGd3CLYscviAq6Xsi5F3P3s_A8tpq3v2SUq0u07ANeYx5y3UnVzMCcnO5TzW8f_2FufgEqv58uwDa_dIhiWN4rTKD3jjBlmyou2Q/w200-h135/Berlin%20Wall.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Even if we were to agree to read Ger as convert, I'm still bothered by it. We so often state that once someone has converted they are Jewish, plain and simple. No second-guessing, no questioning, no exclusions. So why would this text be talking about fellow Jews as "strangers" and "outsiders," just because at one point they converted into the religion?? Today, in our diverse and multicultural world, I firmly believe we need to emphasize inclusion. We can absolutely still acknowledge the differences between being Jewish and not, and I don't mind saying there are certain mitzvot and rituals that are exclusively performed by Jews during a Jewish prayer service. But we cannot, and should not, wall ourselves off from our neighbors all around us, no matter how different from us they may be. Clearly, not all authorities read it this way, but there is no doubt in my mind as to what the Torah (and God) meant here. And the commandment to treat all people the same was not only true in the time of the Torah, but is just as much true today in our modern world. If not more so.<p></p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:<br />1. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/historicalthesaurus/8938475716">Historical Thesaurus</a> on <a href="https://www.flickr.com/">Flickr</a><br />2. <a href="https://pix4free.org/photo/16281/stranger.html">Nick Youngson</a> on <a href="https://pix4free.org/">Pix4free</a><br />3. <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Maimonides_stamp_1953.jpg">Wind-Struski</a> on <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/">Wikimedia Commons</a><br />4, <a href="https://picryl.com/media/a-view-of-the-wall-which-separates-communist-controlled-east-germany-from-west-f4eaf1">U.S. National Archives</a> on <a href="https://picryl.com/">Picryl</a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-9865322762644376102022-06-10T09:11:00.001-07:002022-06-10T09:11:56.060-07:00Naso (repost): Feeling the Loss of God's Face<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3xXmZLEQRz0w2kdjfmBX6m17lPAN5sdn7EZ7dvynj0-Hk72EAVFc-3xwG5AB8lGJvUagvViEN-EB3HUP7Ce4u0rhBlKH0435DaL-uYUO7ZsfwUhF7vJACai1fmwLggvONGsp_oYM2nyk/s1600/Google+Translate+photo.PNG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3xXmZLEQRz0w2kdjfmBX6m17lPAN5sdn7EZ7dvynj0-Hk72EAVFc-3xwG5AB8lGJvUagvViEN-EB3HUP7Ce4u0rhBlKH0435DaL-uYUO7ZsfwUhF7vJACai1fmwLggvONGsp_oYM2nyk/s1600/Google+Translate+photo.PNG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3xXmZLEQRz0w2kdjfmBX6m17lPAN5sdn7EZ7dvynj0-Hk72EAVFc-3xwG5AB8lGJvUagvViEN-EB3HUP7Ce4u0rhBlKH0435DaL-uYUO7ZsfwUhF7vJACai1fmwLggvONGsp_oYM2nyk/s1600/Google+Translate+photo.PNG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>This is a repost of something I wrote in 2012, and I dedicated it then in memory of Henry Dickson, who was a member of the congregation and a good friend. It's hard to believe it's been ten years since he passed. I wanted to make sure to mention the tribute, because Henry is mentioned in the post itself. May his memory always be remembered for a blessing. </i></span></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3xXmZLEQRz0w2kdjfmBX6m17lPAN5sdn7EZ7dvynj0-Hk72EAVFc-3xwG5AB8lGJvUagvViEN-EB3HUP7Ce4u0rhBlKH0435DaL-uYUO7ZsfwUhF7vJACai1fmwLggvONGsp_oYM2nyk/s1600/Google+Translate+photo.PNG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3xXmZLEQRz0w2kdjfmBX6m17lPAN5sdn7EZ7dvynj0-Hk72EAVFc-3xwG5AB8lGJvUagvViEN-EB3HUP7Ce4u0rhBlKH0435DaL-uYUO7ZsfwUhF7vJACai1fmwLggvONGsp_oYM2nyk/s200/Google+Translate+photo.PNG" width="150" /></a>Our Torah portion this week is Naso, the second parasha in the Book of Numbers. One of the most famous sections in Naso is the Priestly Benediction, which still to this day is used by many parents to bless their children at the Friday night dinner table, and is also included in many lifecycle <span id="internal-source-marker_0.8229836768005043"><span style="font-family: "arial"; vertical-align: baseline;">events. </span></span><span><span style="font-family: "arial"; vertical-align: baseline;">The Etz Hayim Chumash translates the Priestly Benediction as follows: "Thus shall you bless the people of Israel. Say to them: 'The Lord bless you and protect you! The Lord deal kindly and graciously with you! The Lord bestow His favor upon you and grant you peace!'" (Numbers 6:23-26) Now, Henry would have looked at that translation and said, "Is that REALLY what the Hebrew text says?" And of course my answer would be, "No." The Etz Hayim translators would probably argue that they're giving you the figurative meaning of the text, but personally, I like the literal meaning. And Henry was one of many people who, like me, wanted to know what the words were literally saying, and then he could make up his own mind about the interpretive meaning. So let's delve, shall we?</span></span></p><p></p><span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0kfFFyWHi0gu_NVRT24WcUZIFAvG9qhQgpG0c01YTspv7GWUrlMrysNMj7RLC-p0t5_v-L9whGD0Rm93bzxGALToQEZkL-pYN7KrHcZsKUSQlG_qgRMSkoh3u2pmIiGifpjtHViUJrA/s1600/sun+pic.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0kfFFyWHi0gu_NVRT24WcUZIFAvG9qhQgpG0c01YTspv7GWUrlMrysNMj7RLC-p0t5_v-L9whGD0Rm93bzxGALToQEZkL-pYN7KrHcZsKUSQlG_qgRMSkoh3u2pmIiGifpjtHViUJrA/w150-h200/sun+pic.JPG" width="150" /></a>I'm ok with the first line, it is indeed talking about God blessing and protecting us. So far, so good. But the second and third lines have a fascinating wording that provokes a very different theological understanding: </span></span><span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"May God shine God's Face upon you and be gracious to you! May God turn God's Face toward you and grant you peace!" Are we uncomfortable with the notion of God having a face? Is that why we gloss over this with a figurative translation? Let's instead sit with the challenge of this wording for a minute. What does it mean to see/experience/feel/know God's Face? And even if you don't believe in an anthropomorphic God (a tangible, human-like Divine figure), isn't there something we can learn from the concept of God turning towards us, rather than just asking God to show us favor? </span><br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_iKbDCOask4z7QeSB0c842W5H2Mx7S_ZIyxo4ujPV15f8u8RMgkjsB11E00UpqKiW9S94sQansyAath6QoK3pG47fu2HJcsDdOWhGheywjpuK8ghhwgf84J_8oSaszNVCcJsoqGxU7HQ/s1600/gift+pic.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_iKbDCOask4z7QeSB0c842W5H2Mx7S_ZIyxo4ujPV15f8u8RMgkjsB11E00UpqKiW9S94sQansyAath6QoK3pG47fu2HJcsDdOWhGheywjpuK8ghhwgf84J_8oSaszNVCcJsoqGxU7HQ/s200/gift+pic.JPG" width="150" /></a>One idea that jumped out at me comes from the Book of Genesis. After not having seen his brother, Esau, for nearly 20 years, Jacob is reunited with his sibling once again. As he tries to offer his brother a caravan filled with gifts, he </span></span><span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">exclaims, </span></span><span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Accept from me this gift; for to see your face is like seeing the Face of God, and you have received me favorably" (Gen. 33:6). To me, what Jacob is saying is that good fortune in life, special joyous occasions, and moments of thanksgiving - they are all LIKE seeing the Face of God. The Divine Countenance is also discussed in the Book of Psalms, a book filled with every human emotion across the spectrum. In at least ten different Psalms, the theme of God's Face features prominently, either as a Presence strongly felt (and therefore the source of joy, confidence, and safety), or a gaping void (and thus the source of agony, sorrow, rejection, and defeat). And it is the central focus of the Priestly Benediction, which has remained one of the most well-known Jewish prayers for over 3,000 years. </span><br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhELDMoEbgn2wwtinCih7PyCroZ8UfxksXNGBG8Oj3kCyRdFL4kfSPJ0Ie9XBD-qVxrgx9KVDYL8GOR3uBfQ8rSmjJRnHUYEUFIDkK9Wvwefz8PUbGyUg25LzfD4_ZZhdHBaNstArRx218/s1600/soldier+hug.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhELDMoEbgn2wwtinCih7PyCroZ8UfxksXNGBG8Oj3kCyRdFL4kfSPJ0Ie9XBD-qVxrgx9KVDYL8GOR3uBfQ8rSmjJRnHUYEUFIDkK9Wvwefz8PUbGyUg25LzfD4_ZZhdHBaNstArRx218/s200/soldier+hug.jpg" width="200" /></a>God's Face is not theologically problematic to me. Because whenever good things happen in life, it can indeed feel as if the Face of God is shining on us all. And when we are alone in our grief, mourning the loss of wonderful people, it certainly can feel as if God's Face is hidden, and the world is just a little bit emptier. </span></span><span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The people who bless our lives with their presence, they are the embodiment of God's Light shining in our lives. And knowing that the light can come and go forces us to cherish them while they are around. So make sure to identify the people who represent the Face of God in your life, who light up your existence and spread warmth, joy, comfort, and positivity. Treasure every precious moment that you have with them, and be grateful always.</span></span><br /><span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Photos in this blog post:</span></span><br /><span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1. Image of the Google Translate app courtesy of Rabbi Gerber's iPad.</span></span><br /><span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2. Image courtesy of Rabbi Gerber's iPhone on a gorgeous afternoon.</span></span><br /><span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">3. Image courtesy of Rabbi Gerber's iPhone... but the gift courtesy of Ohev Shalom's awesome Confirmation Class 2012!</span></span><br /><span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">4. CC image courtesy of <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/caguard/6333359660/">The California National Guard</a> on <a href="http://www.flickr.com/">Flickr</a></span></span><br />Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-87377324243563895462022-06-03T10:13:00.002-07:002022-06-03T10:13:33.729-07:00Shavuot: I Believe I Saw You at Sinai...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtDhtT4W0IqAn1873luIZ8Avmo6mHT_rswazmfdC2AADsq0rUe3ZyVhILUGSPCtn4CGyTp91xwkDeRT883zSVxRS_icK2eVEqCpgDSCO8uO9u-Tf5JqbxXBgHnbPTFNsJT132lZKORgPbk80kKgGdre-OQCIcZyWpD6UGh77KJPtOO08SMjba7HuWyLA/s1094/Mount%20Sinai.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="821" data-original-width="1094" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtDhtT4W0IqAn1873luIZ8Avmo6mHT_rswazmfdC2AADsq0rUe3ZyVhILUGSPCtn4CGyTp91xwkDeRT883zSVxRS_icK2eVEqCpgDSCO8uO9u-Tf5JqbxXBgHnbPTFNsJT132lZKORgPbk80kKgGdre-OQCIcZyWpD6UGh77KJPtOO08SMjba7HuWyLA/w200-h150/Mount%20Sinai.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I know it's kind of short notice, but if you're local to Ohev Shalom and aren't too busy this Saturday, you may want to consider joining us for either or both of our events that day. Zoom works too, but it's never really the same as being in-person, is it? So, what's so special happening on Saturday, June 4th? Well, both of them have to do with the Ten Commandments, and what happened when Moses and the people received them directly from God at Mount Sinai. There is a classic, Jewish legend that states that every Jewish soul was present at Mount Sinai, so I suppose I could have added to my previous sentence: "Remember that day? Man, that was crazy!" Anyway, we have a morning service and an evening program going on, and altogether three opportunities to grapple with that history-altering moment in the Bible... and all three from very different perspectives. I want to say a word or two about each here on the blog, and I hope at least a few (more) people will be able to attend. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0f516QpB89CYe8fr21skunvSu3DcCkCjAbmBL6jmmxrrFOBlTUsEEcB0bW6f3JGCCsWWaKx1bI3H9ojMmjMFjLSv9cyntkCn5G5kDWDP4qKm_8r7ljNNi4k85T-1uVxVQ5Mg23IOaDN3HjGiQCD092DGDehMuZ5EVzer21FikI28n_zHHiSNLvk3MSA/s640/Vav%20&%20Zayin%20Mikraot%20Gedolot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0f516QpB89CYe8fr21skunvSu3DcCkCjAbmBL6jmmxrrFOBlTUsEEcB0bW6f3JGCCsWWaKx1bI3H9ojMmjMFjLSv9cyntkCn5G5kDWDP4qKm_8r7ljNNi4k85T-1uVxVQ5Mg23IOaDN3HjGiQCD092DGDehMuZ5EVzer21FikI28n_zHHiSNLvk3MSA/w150-h200/Vav%20&%20Zayin%20Mikraot%20Gedolot.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>First, at the morning Shabbat service, our sixth and seventh grade class will be delivering a clever D'var Torah. I say "clever" because we decided to try something a little different. As a class, they've written Divrei Torah (plural) with me in third, fourth, fifth, and sixth grade, so it was time to think outside the box. My colleague, Rabbi Kelilah Miller, and I decided to introduce the students to medieval rabbinic commentary from a series of volumes called <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mikraot_Gedolot">Mikraot Gedolot</a>. So the class and I looked at the giving of the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai, and some of the peculiar, melodramatic elements of that scene. We then examined some of the commentaries, and the students then got to write their own questions, considerations, and musings. And we put it all together on a page that mimicked the rabbinic template from Mikraot Gedolot. I share all this with you - and hope you can come tomorrow morning - because I think (I hope) the students learned something really essential about Torah: Our voices matter. Studying our ancient texts is meant to be a give-and-take, back-and-forth, interactive process, where every single generation of Jews (including yours and mine...) is invited and encouraged to join the conversation. And once we realize we're part of the dialogue, we may also discover yet another powerful truth about our Jewish tradition. Torah wasn't given once at Mount Sinai, to one group of people, in one geographic location. It is actually a continuous and ongoing process that is still going on to this very day!<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzuH-omJs4qHxFSXeq1fCKjTKSA_NxdF3C8SqC_3d0wEtUix9u7Sps2wJxjhu7Bz4k3a7-AkmTbdo-wboDRujLrp8NZrUqp__yaZ368ddANep4As3McN23L-nHWdS3Rkd4xoxl3u1egQOOn35h2LufWzjMfT6PyGP2i1ikOufbvAWGF1s3XM7ex3VvOg/s2400/believe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="2400" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzuH-omJs4qHxFSXeq1fCKjTKSA_NxdF3C8SqC_3d0wEtUix9u7Sps2wJxjhu7Bz4k3a7-AkmTbdo-wboDRujLrp8NZrUqp__yaZ368ddANep4As3McN23L-nHWdS3Rkd4xoxl3u1egQOOn35h2LufWzjMfT6PyGP2i1ikOufbvAWGF1s3XM7ex3VvOg/w200-h133/believe.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>And that's only the morning service! Later in the evening, starting at 8pm, we are holding our annual Tikkun Leyl Shavuot, evening of study connected to the Jewish holiday of Shavuot. This year, we decided to center our learning on the notion of "This I Believe." Looking at it through the lens of the Mount Sinai experience, we might ask ourselves what each person believes actually happened there, and what does it still mean for the Jewish experience today? How often do we even stop and ponder what we truly believe? What are our guiding principles in life, and how did we come to believe them in the first place? For tomorrow evening's learning, I've invited several congregants who are Jews by Choice, i.e. who converted to Judaism as adults. Generally speaking, Jewish tradition tells us not to highlight when someone has converted, because they are indeed fully Jewish, and their journey doesn't mitigate that experience at all. At the same time, I think it is a vital part of the larger narrative of the Jewish community, and it helps us all - collectively - be more inclusive when we learn what someone else went through to claim their Jewish identity. And by the way, their souls were right there at Mount Sinai too; they just needed an extra step to find their way home. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-oTJw4issA_S2kigar981Bh9lu2qlO9hJDGE9zS52Ong-osSUUMjB2jIGWeoPpeo00tIa42efP0qDjYvRPxxIh00tvTkFratqnkRJdeqDkhZhAQnxQc5fL3xVnvJz26NURj6fqbT3MhZVRlDaPYSHdwOmACR-NR2uwDFHVdLsuK-2z5Coco8Tvbrqg/s1024/I%20believe%20in%20you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-oTJw4issA_S2kigar981Bh9lu2qlO9hJDGE9zS52Ong-osSUUMjB2jIGWeoPpeo00tIa42efP0qDjYvRPxxIh00tvTkFratqnkRJdeqDkhZhAQnxQc5fL3xVnvJz26NURj6fqbT3MhZVRlDaPYSHdwOmACR-NR2uwDFHVdLsuK-2z5Coco8Tvbrqg/w200-h150/I%20believe%20in%20you.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>We will then conclude our evening of study by looking at several essays on the topic of "This I Believe." And not even necessarily stories from the Jewish community. People around the globe grapple with the notion of what they believe; about the universe, humanity, the meaning of life, and what it means to do good. As I mentioned above, we rarely take the time to stop and think about those beliefs, even though they may fundamentally impact all of our major life decisions! Reading about other people's guiding principles in life may really help us contemplate our own. Just as learning about (or remembering?) what happened at Sinai can inspire us to think about what Judaism, Jewish tradition, and God mean to us today. And realizing that our voices are essential parts of the Jewish conversation - as our Hebrew School students did - will hopefully spur you on to really own your beliefs and share them with others. Look how much you could learn, just by coming to services on a single day! :-) I hope to see you there.<p></p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:<br />1. <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Phillip_Medhurst_Picture_Torah_428._Moses_receives_the_Ten_Commandments._Exodus_cap_20_vv_18-19._Caspar_Luyken.jpg">Philip de Vere</a> on <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/">Wikimedia Commons</a><br />2. Ohev Shalom's sixth and seventh graders<br />3. <a href="Believe by <a href="http://www.nyphotographic.com/">Nick Youngson</a> <a rel="license" href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC BY-SA 3.0</a> <a href="http://pix4free.org/">Pix4free</a>">Nick Youngson</a> on <a href="https://pix4free.org/photo/4014/believe.html">Pix4free</a><br />4. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ckubber/5798436005">ckubber</a> on <a href="https://www.flickr.com/">Flickr</a></div><p><br /></p>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-18836940756154897692022-05-27T12:35:00.000-07:002022-05-27T12:35:02.740-07:00Bechukotai: The Deadly Repercussions of a Selfish Society<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOWzp4DblULLVPDzzMKZXvZHyEHAzQqkbDTL9gcJjCbCNFfvdY0Fbg2TH6pmQ9fQseEsuqUyLDZDK8_wdyDwAecTGGLyVp5lzKN8KU4BO9hcLyItZpluQMps7Q4FW4st6EaIn8TUaSXDM0KbWqSqdKb5llh1UVjrGLErmKieWUd9IHbtYVN22EleQLMQ/s336/assault%20rifle.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="150" data-original-width="336" height="89" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOWzp4DblULLVPDzzMKZXvZHyEHAzQqkbDTL9gcJjCbCNFfvdY0Fbg2TH6pmQ9fQseEsuqUyLDZDK8_wdyDwAecTGGLyVp5lzKN8KU4BO9hcLyItZpluQMps7Q4FW4st6EaIn8TUaSXDM0KbWqSqdKb5llh1UVjrGLErmKieWUd9IHbtYVN22EleQLMQ/w200-h89/assault%20rifle.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>Too often, I have found myself writing a blog post in the wake of yet another unfathomable mass shooting. If I go back and review what I've written over the years, it breaks my heart to see how many posts refer to recent violence somewhere in the country. There are a lot of them. Way, *way* too many. This time, we were first reeling after <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/live/2022/05/14/nyregion/buffalo-shooting">a gunman attacked shoppers in a grocery store in Buffalo, NY,</a> and just as we were trying to come to terms with that horrific attack, <a href="https://apnews.com/article/uvalde-texas-school-shooting-44a7cfb990feaa6ffe482483df6e4683">another assailant killed 19 elementary school children and two teachers in Uvalde, TX</a>. It is a truly powerless feeling to live in a country with so many armed individuals and so few checks, restrictions, or failsafes that could prevent senseless loss of life. We are living through an epidemic - a plague - of gun violence. And it is made exponentially worse by the failure of society to teach more people the paramount value of human life. When we feel this level of despair and sadness, we can also feel numb, desensitized, and totally speechless. In those moments, I find that the texts of our ancient, Jewish tradition can offer a broader perspective that may help us process all of this a bit better. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaGWKOcwWWPqdkbGK-JOFsNyvaIFNrH7Y6JFzMM_gp-ruVojRH6lKfwn9Onk1f8KDSyDgUQxfIQzc3-dR621DCSC1Ecp6LPF9cijiV1alFpAR1cGANQk2mpevGousovEiQvc5PYOY6WT9M791s2hbikZRzTmbOwLfprbpUCR--B1_VRXavXiyqbn0XAQ/s1024/prayer%20vigil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaGWKOcwWWPqdkbGK-JOFsNyvaIFNrH7Y6JFzMM_gp-ruVojRH6lKfwn9Onk1f8KDSyDgUQxfIQzc3-dR621DCSC1Ecp6LPF9cijiV1alFpAR1cGANQk2mpevGousovEiQvc5PYOY6WT9M791s2hbikZRzTmbOwLfprbpUCR--B1_VRXavXiyqbn0XAQ/w200-h133/prayer%20vigil.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>First of all, I want to preface this by saying that the Torah is unlikely to make us feel better at this moment. I mean, how could it? How could anything?? Right now, if our gun laws won’t change, and our elected officials don’t feel compelled by the terror we’re all living under, little else is going to turn the tide. So the Torah can’t just heal us from this pain, much as we desperately wish it could. But maybe we can still use this moment for introspection and self-examination, and that is certainly a realm that the Torah understands incredibly well. In this week’s Torah portion, which concludes the Book of Leviticus, we actually do see some of our current societal struggles reflected in the text, as our ancient ancestors learn about the consequences of not observing laws or letting society descend into chaos.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlVXW_EYYuJlK2fn5vKxr5uCrj3MEHXY-d-0gqsv7R3iQVTMu0JvATkv6X59pWoHP3WBvKl3pX4W4gcib-1HFxrpQiwRvEkaezQVBZY8l9H7EOBIcoBPG5fvJ3hZD96zH7o5ecYO7S4EZPgXtUx0SPm6BgSoo0rvaTP8F-aqTF4D2P-Cpi-nSXpoAkw/s1280/arid%20landscape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlVXW_EYYuJlK2fn5vKxr5uCrj3MEHXY-d-0gqsv7R3iQVTMu0JvATkv6X59pWoHP3WBvKl3pX4W4gcib-1HFxrpQiwRvEkaezQVBZY8l9H7EOBIcoBPG5fvJ3hZD96zH7o5ecYO7S4EZPgXtUx0SPm6BgSoo0rvaTP8F-aqTF4D2P-Cpi-nSXpoAkw/w200-h150/arid%20landscape.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>God first offers the Children of Israel a series of blessings that will come if-and-when they observe all the laws of the Torah. This is followed by a longer, more unsettling section that elaborates on the repercussions of non-compliance. The key takeaway for us is that these warnings aren’t just Biblical; they have an eerie resonance in our lives today. For example, if we don’t care for God’s earth, and take responsibility to protect it, the text informs us: “I will make your skies like iron and your earth like copper, so that your strength shall be spent to no purpose” (Lev. 26:19-20). To me, that sounds an awful lot like the fallout from global warming; skies that don’t produce rain and land that is unable to provide crops. Furthermore, we might see a foreshadowing of the pandemic, when the text states: “If you withdraw into your cities, I will send pestilence among you.” (v. 25) I interpret that to mean that when we “wall” ourselves off and only care about our families and our own communities, and we don’t work together to protect everyone in society (or share vaccines with people who desperately need them around the world…), the pestilence/plague/pandemic gets worse.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQk4g0XBH6EEu8TVgO2zpMLSPF034cQY881J0zc0ZrGYMfQxhk5KQIbBUkeIFlfHUFnN1EFE78M3YpeNH7iXick4wXKTmRh52Hd_8Dhprz4R7-3bEfeb777JP-gL6qZ_t9IO9Np1dZw-O7l7D9ZrdBKwZpIH-L32im8U-ik0AFeCSI48H10639dP_Hg/s800/helping%20others.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="689" data-original-width="800" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQk4g0XBH6EEu8TVgO2zpMLSPF034cQY881J0zc0ZrGYMfQxhk5KQIbBUkeIFlfHUFnN1EFE78M3YpeNH7iXick4wXKTmRh52Hd_8Dhprz4R7-3bEfeb777JP-gL6qZ_t9IO9Np1dZw-O7l7D9ZrdBKwZpIH-L32im8U-ik0AFeCSI48H10639dP_Hg/w200-h173/helping%20others.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>And finally, the text forces us to confront this particularly horrific scourge of gun violence, when it states: “I will loose wild beasts against you, and they shall bereave you of your children..." (v. 33) I doubt I need to help anyone connect that verse to Uvalde, TX… or to Sandy Hook or Parkland. So looking at these ominous warnings, especially in the context of communal introspection, I think the most important thing the text is trying to teach us is that we’re all in this together. When the Torah talks about following God’s laws, I look at the many prophetic texts that emphasize again and again that God wants us to care for the poor, the orphan, and the widow. God expects us to share our bounty and not turn our backs on those less fortunate. I don’t see this as focusing on Shabbat observance or keeping Kosher; I see it as saying these calamities are all the repercussions of selfishness, greed, and apathy. Recognizing this doesn’t magically make the tragedies disappear, but it may teach us how to respond to them. We need to care for one another, strive for peace relentlessly and constantly, and demand our elected leaders do the same. I pray that we’ll all learn these lessons, and soon. Otherwise, I fear I’ll be back here soon again, writing another blog post after we’ve been plagued by more violence. <p></p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:<br />1. <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:T91_Assault_Rifle_noBG.png">Zcdrrm</a> on <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/">Wikimedia Commons</a><br />2. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/govmurphy/47620618162">Phil Murphy</a> on <a href="https://www.flickr.com/">Flickr</a><br />3. <a href="https://pixabay.com/photos/desert-dry-landscape-hot-sky-arid-2035910/">Pashi</a> on <a href="https://pixabay.com/">Pixabay</a><br />4. <a href="https://www.rawpixel.com/image/1201702/people-support-group">McKinsey</a> on <a href="https://www.rawpixel.com/">Rawpixel</a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-75955487059858207582022-05-06T14:54:00.002-07:002022-05-06T14:59:40.676-07:00Kedoshim: When The Rule Needs a Little More Love<p><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6KaiPpJJ79zf9ezSgk0imSoSmBg4p3h-Md4m8o0XFxRaDG8QwCUBnHuQruGxyTvUnf6eOyA75FyMn5TCnMB61Gxhh5GlJeI7ORpGFF4oia39B2qEn4uNcoSfDQ8QY0mLukc9AAoQUahjm0pHZef-iDZsqhJcGANY9woUEuhI2qJWlutYI-jf0NZfOrw/s452/golden%20rule.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="111" data-original-width="452" height="49" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6KaiPpJJ79zf9ezSgk0imSoSmBg4p3h-Md4m8o0XFxRaDG8QwCUBnHuQruGxyTvUnf6eOyA75FyMn5TCnMB61Gxhh5GlJeI7ORpGFF4oia39B2qEn4uNcoSfDQ8QY0mLukc9AAoQUahjm0pHZef-iDZsqhJcGANY9woUEuhI2qJWlutYI-jf0NZfOrw/w200-h49/golden%20rule.png" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times;">How you phrase something matters a lot. Changing your wording just a little bit can really shift the meaning and the outcome dramatically, and this week’s Torah portion offers us a pretty famous example of this principle. <i>Parashat </i>Kedoshim features the oft-quoted Golden Rule, which is, of course: _______ … hmmm… well, how would you articulate The Golden Rule? Take a moment and think about exactly how you, in your own mind, might express what you consider to be the Biblical maxim that we refer to as The Golden Rule. I say that, because I read a Torah commentary this week that really emphasized how important phrasing can be, and specifically when it comes to this famous concept. I thought it would be interesting for us to spend a few minutes looking out how different each formulation is, what each means, and how the outcome of which option we choose has direct impact on interpersonal relations in our world today. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrIVb5G90wVOL2DKYxt3hvB9A40l2Umahshe5_7oXvdQ_Qx9Y8d8aSO1skfgX42T5cYpv1uyCcTolJ4qeJAJmbQOjvz1425oGH7FHcjT0VJ2sT7_NLdW46pkZCqq-mUeMTPWReOtf-4d0R23GpbxjwAwf4ujWIXu6lQJnRkW8vY6Q6vtMH1IXQfJJ5Lw/s640/live%20and%20let%20live.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="426" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrIVb5G90wVOL2DKYxt3hvB9A40l2Umahshe5_7oXvdQ_Qx9Y8d8aSO1skfgX42T5cYpv1uyCcTolJ4qeJAJmbQOjvz1425oGH7FHcjT0VJ2sT7_NLdW46pkZCqq-mUeMTPWReOtf-4d0R23GpbxjwAwf4ujWIXu6lQJnRkW8vY6Q6vtMH1IXQfJJ5Lw/w133-h200/live%20and%20let%20live.jpg" width="133" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times;">If you Google The Golden Rule, you will find that a version of it exists in almost every culture and religious tradition on earth. And, as I stated above, each group tends to express it slightly differently. A common example of the “negative” phrasing of it is: “That which you hate to be done to you, do not do to another.” And if you reconfigure it to a more positive statement, you might say: “Do unto others as you would have them do to you.” Those two are basically saying the same thing, right? And every other version of this principle is essentially identical as well, and we could call them all doctrines of reciprocity. The thing is, they’re actually not the same. Phrasing matters. I read a Torah commentary this week, written by Shaya Cohen, where he points out: “<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: white; text-size-adjust: auto;">the negative construction of [The Golden Rule] does not require any engagement – you can fulfill the Golden Rule by simply leaving other people alone.” We see this in many parts of modern society too, right? “Live and let live,” we might hear people say. Or we might look at how siloed our society has become, where everyone does his/her own thing, but it doesn’t really entail any communal engagement or responsibility for one another. Essentially, just don’t get in each other’s way, and everyone will be fine. But will they?</span></span><p></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: white; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: times;">Even the positive formulation might potentially lead you to a similar conclusion. Cohen observes: “</span></span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: white; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: times;">it suggests a quid pro quo, doing to others as you want them to do to you. If you want to be left alone, then you can fulfill this rule merely by leaving others alone as well!” It’s articulated in a more proactive form, but ultimately this well-known version of The Rule still allows everyone to go to their own corner, wall themselves off from others, and just make sure to treat people with the same respect you’d want to receive from them. But yet again, no engagement or commitment is required. So then we get to the Jewish iteration of The Golden Rule, and the one found in this week’s reading: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” How is this any different than the others? </span></span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: white; font-family: times; text-size-adjust: auto;">Cohen posits: “</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: white; font-family: times; text-size-adjust: auto;">love is an ongoing investment, not a mere thing or product.” Our Torah is challenging us to take this one (or maybe several…) step(s) further. Is it enough to just have a non-aggression treaty? To just mind our own business and let others do the same? I really don’t think it is. </span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: white; font-family: times; text-size-adjust: auto;">If we examine any of the major issues swirling around us in the world right now, the earlier two formulations of The Golden Rule just aren’t enough. Whether we’re talking about battling Covid, supporting people in Ukraine fighting to fend off Russian aggression, or even the ongoing debate about the Supreme Court ending Roe v. Wade and our country’s protections for abortions; in each of these instances, I contend that more is needed than just a “live and let live” mentality. We need the interactive and ongoing relationship that Cohen suggests comes with the word "love." In particular, think about what you would want or need to thrive in the world. It isn't enough for others to just get out of our way, because there are many, many challenges that we all face, and we need one another to really overcome obstacles and be successful. So it is essential that we consider how much phrasing matters, both in terms of how we express The Golden Rule, and then how we choose to implement it in our lives. Nearly every culture in the world has articulated this principle in one form or another, which tells us that it is really important... *and* that we all need to be reminded of it pretty frequently! It's been a vital teaching for several millennia, and continues to be an essential concept for us to learn, internalize, and put into practice. If and when we can do that, then it won't just be a rule to follow, but a shining, golden example of how to treat one another throughout the world.</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34); color: #202122;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-9d76ca11-7fff-06a7-5bd8-92a8d9df7666"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1. <a href="https://openclipart.org/detail/252745/how-shall-we-live-no-background">GDJ</a> on <a href="http://openclipart.org">openclipart.org</a></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2. <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Live_and_Let_Live_public_house_-_geograph.org.uk_-_525517.jpg">Fractal Angel</a> on <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/">Wikimedia Commons</a></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span><div><span style="color: #202122; font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34);"><br /></span></span><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p></div>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-24021288715355573082022-04-29T13:50:00.003-07:002022-04-29T13:50:41.466-07:00Acharei Mot: The Letter and the Spirit Square Off<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLR5BzNH-OS9GM2isKzeDnRHFphX4yJYh-orlvfrKTnTJk_MThEVkp4-6qu2XmCzbTCgJSXPCGHLRfWTZsqyfV3Rn666-fS0yXD2kfK79XhEvG3WEhH_kVe4bZcgFLe-Ci9gN_IRQYhurOZzprQVdSW3fseYpc6gtBdG4-BARuXHlWP3t8-PxfKlFAJw/s1000/Haggadah%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="759" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLR5BzNH-OS9GM2isKzeDnRHFphX4yJYh-orlvfrKTnTJk_MThEVkp4-6qu2XmCzbTCgJSXPCGHLRfWTZsqyfV3Rn666-fS0yXD2kfK79XhEvG3WEhH_kVe4bZcgFLe-Ci9gN_IRQYhurOZzprQVdSW3fseYpc6gtBdG4-BARuXHlWP3t8-PxfKlFAJw/w152-h200/Haggadah%20cover.jpg" width="152" /></a></div>When you think about the performance of mitzvot, which would you say is more important, the action or the intention? Let’s imagine, say, that we’re back at the Passover Seder from a couple of weeks ago. Would it be “better” to do all the rituals, sing all the songs, and read every page of the Haggadah, even if your heart isn’t in it and you’re distracted? Or better to go into the holiday with excitement, enthusiasm, and interest… but recite half the prayers, sing two abridged songs, and read none of the extraneous material? At first glance, you might think the answer is obvious. And two different people reading this blog post might each think the answer is self-evident… while holding opposite opinions! I don’t know if there is a “correct” answer here, or even a practice or approach that is better or worse. But the ancient rabbis get into an interesting debate about each of these perspectives, and I thought perhaps it might be worth our while to examine their opinions for a bit.<p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZSpOot0wh4sSowG5tg8Zg8N1C8k6xW9iaAs-ft2zyCXKW52BMazgMh9I1WX-OKLmxuvlJ5fXNCT0lRkButM5r6ageY3Kw3cwc-6S7ozyKddGI2EoqaUxgOTh9O8agGK-rDK9I5DWmptzpWl5WYwhRxj-lT8cuJz_Ry-OPeuOX2PvmSGZGQr3MqB35Q/s1024/high%20priest%20model.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="573" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZSpOot0wh4sSowG5tg8Zg8N1C8k6xW9iaAs-ft2zyCXKW52BMazgMh9I1WX-OKLmxuvlJ5fXNCT0lRkButM5r6ageY3Kw3cwc-6S7ozyKddGI2EoqaUxgOTh9O8agGK-rDK9I5DWmptzpWl5WYwhRxj-lT8cuJz_Ry-OPeuOX2PvmSGZGQr3MqB35Q/w112-h200/high%20priest%20model.jpg" width="112" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times;">Their first statement might surprise you. Mira Balberg, in her book “Blood for Thought: The Reinvention of Sacrifice in Early Rabbinic Literature,” explains that the rabbis of the Talmud understood the institution of sacrifice not so much as creating lines of communication to God, but rather about meticulous and flawless performance of Divine commands. In other words, they firmly believed in the first part of my statement above: Whether it’s about sacrifice, keeping Kosher, or celebrating Pesach, the most important thing is to GET. IT. RIGHT! Rabbi Ilana Kurshan wrote a Torah commentary this week in which she wrote, “<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;">The rabbinic discussion of the high priest’s activities on Yom Kippur is focused on the precision and accuracy with which each step must be taken.” Based on this, it’s pretty clear how the Talmudic rabbis would have ruled on this question. Intention is all well and good, but really it’s about performing mitzvot correctly and fully. However, this isn’t the only thing the rabbis say on the subject. There are other sources to look at as well. Furthermore, it gives me pause to hear how the rabbis discussed Temple sacrifice and its rituals. They didn’t live in the era of the Temple. In fact, they were descendants of the Pharisees, who were quite anti-Temple, and who felt the whole institution had turned corrupt and was not fulfilling the Will of God. So when they talk about how meticulous the High Priest was, and how perfectly every single detail had to be performed, are they advocating that behavior… or subtly critiquing it?</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVs6se0qs_D1J23pTWx4LO3wT-g-gc65MAmp8YzWdv5VxiEEqZzWCrTX-vb8boE4Ah-vEIkdlPZFp918rZ5CN8A1SOJOr8iwHo4lDE1Oy7r_BpRPp-g9Thi2U6t0dcLScH9bWl4j8QzF5hf3bdMBIsqdfCEx_dZxuu9fsAUYb-WV-uFdrty3Ezaen0w/s1200/sharing%20bread.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVs6se0qs_D1J23pTWx4LO3wT-g-gc65MAmp8YzWdv5VxiEEqZzWCrTX-vb8boE4Ah-vEIkdlPZFp918rZ5CN8A1SOJOr8iwHo4lDE1Oy7r_BpRPp-g9Thi2U6t0dcLScH9bWl4j8QzF5hf3bdMBIsqdfCEx_dZxuu9fsAUYb-WV-uFdrty3Ezaen0w/w200-h133/sharing%20bread.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;">There are countless stories of people unable to recite the correct prayers, but directing their hearts to God, and their petitions being accepted. We read the prophet Isaiah - in a text that was chosen by some of those same ancient rabbis to be the Haftarah specifically for Yom Kippur - instructing his listeners that God does *not* want the ritual sacrifices. God, through Isaiah, insists rather that we must “share your bread with the hungry, take the wretched poor into your home. When you see the naked, clothe them, and do not ignore your own kin.” (Isaiah, 58:7) Doesn’t this sound like the opposite approach? Informing us that our practices and observances could be 110% perfect, yet simultaneously meaningless if they don’t have the proper intentions of kindness and compassion. So which one is it, the letter of the law or the spirit of the law? It is so difficult to choose…</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmyuqgfyjvPig7B2imNmOUMhfLvHQ9b3wA9Opjo8O6F0UfA5tn4utKy_WnDJG2xgBZ1ZajemWhIXREhFthnuUqKAx5jhR9uQP-gURh5D-Y0Xgd1BZj1Zv7_3SP7Jmb_Xu2qHbohW1v2tga3yiGlqpgLuzMP031AiF8wRrKE5wRi4z7d7eRAxvyXn7L2A/s1280/balance%20scales.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmyuqgfyjvPig7B2imNmOUMhfLvHQ9b3wA9Opjo8O6F0UfA5tn4utKy_WnDJG2xgBZ1ZajemWhIXREhFthnuUqKAx5jhR9uQP-gURh5D-Y0Xgd1BZj1Zv7_3SP7Jmb_Xu2qHbohW1v2tga3yiGlqpgLuzMP031AiF8wRrKE5wRi4z7d7eRAxvyXn7L2A/w200-h200/balance%20scales.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;">And indeed I don’t think we’re actually supposed to choose at all. Like many things in life, we are constantly striving and changing, and mainly seeking to achieve balance and harmony. The same applies here. We can indeed aspire to do things as correctly as possible, acknowledging that the letter of the law has merit and purpose. Yet the spirit can be equally as impactful and significant, and shouldn’t be disregarded. At times, we might even strive to achieve them both together; the precise instructions of the Torah as well as the wholehearted intention described by Isaiah. But humans are not perfect. We aspire, not with the expectation that we will eventually get everything right, but merely in order to keep improving and growing. And I fear that when we imagine leaders like the ancient High Priest in this week’s <i>parashah </i>performing everything perfectly, and we tell ourselves we should be emulating that, we are setting ourselves up for failure. So maybe it’s ok that we can’t do all things well at the same time. That shouldn’t be our goal. Instead, we can appreciate the values of strict adherence *and* heartfelt intention, knowing it’s rare that we can achieve both together. So to answer our question at the start of this blog post, the best option isn’t one extreme or the other; it’s the balance and harmony we strive to achieve inside of ourselves.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;"><br /></span></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;">CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:<br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;">1. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/magnesmuseum/4499768903">Magnes Database Record</a> on <a href="https://www.flickr.com/">Flickr</a><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;">2. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/fotoguy49057/37007498070">FotoGuy 49057</a> on <a href="https://www.flickr.com/">Flickr</a><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;">3. <a href="https://www.rawpixel.com/image/3282814/free-photo-image-bakery-baking-bread-artisanal">Rawpixel</a><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;">4. <a href="https://pixabay.com/illustrations/libra-pan-balance-weigh-2071307/">Peggy_Marco</a> on <a href="https://pixabay.com/">Pixabay</a></span></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: 100%;"><br /></span></span></p>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-13603703866344223382022-04-08T09:49:00.000-07:002022-04-08T09:49:36.709-07:00Metzora (Shabbat Ha-Gadol): Plague vs. Plague vs. Plague<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ULv1YMEvj0TGAfJJbpjq0LegMQUMGklMAhC3ib3FcyGY-Pgzxz5qhuCf7vk2uO2aHnAAsLWkY5GKICbDouXcsFoiineVFdQnABVVeNESmhqS8m5ZhPaQqara-PhgdJWD4eo0pxhgOwNcycjxqUeLG02p_eRzkHknIu75kCLQMktUfObxUUYT4kx0Ww/s311/stains.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="249" data-original-width="311" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ULv1YMEvj0TGAfJJbpjq0LegMQUMGklMAhC3ib3FcyGY-Pgzxz5qhuCf7vk2uO2aHnAAsLWkY5GKICbDouXcsFoiineVFdQnABVVeNESmhqS8m5ZhPaQqara-PhgdJWD4eo0pxhgOwNcycjxqUeLG02p_eRzkHknIu75kCLQMktUfObxUUYT4kx0Ww/w200-h160/stains.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>At first, I couldn’t see any connection between this week’s Torah portion and the upcoming holiday of Pesach, which starts (gulp!) next Friday. But then a particular word caught my attention, and I started to ponder some similarities and differences in its usage on a few different levels. So, our <i>parashah</i> is one of the oddest ones in the whole Torah, focusing on bodily discharges, weird stains and mold on houses and on clothing, as well as other private, intimate, often uncomfortable topics. You can probably see how that would be tough to connect to Pesach! But the text refers to a lot of these physical symptoms - on bodies, clothing, and walls - as “plagues.” And that word sounded awfully familiar, both because of Passover and because of something much more current…<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkebkZVjSETAn0MIkdr6Md-raWhiCjUbEMQNwQk4quIaG5m_8YQTnvfoVTd7XEfkFx8qetrwj5IoYgn1e6O2NUIoSSpPY1jEiBVjR7IOqS62vR2QjuZFJQ0nZGppj_IlWruCI8P2UW9A_FMnWSiU6FMh8JIK131cnFO5RWDZeDaF196rn1Amkke45GWw/s1024/do%20not%20touch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkebkZVjSETAn0MIkdr6Md-raWhiCjUbEMQNwQk4quIaG5m_8YQTnvfoVTd7XEfkFx8qetrwj5IoYgn1e6O2NUIoSSpPY1jEiBVjR7IOqS62vR2QjuZFJQ0nZGppj_IlWruCI8P2UW9A_FMnWSiU6FMh8JIK131cnFO5RWDZeDaF196rn1Amkke45GWw/w200-h200/do%20not%20touch.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Now, the words that both amount to "plague" in English are not the same in Hebrew. I would even add a third version of this word - in English and in Hebrew - which is a euphemism for pestilence, disease, or even - you guessed it - pandemic. Despite these various synonyms, the images they each conjure up are similar, as they involve illness, quarantine, and potential death, and they all also ideally warrant introspection and behavior change. But more on that last part a little later. So let’s examine these concepts a bit closer, shall we? The word in our Torah portion of Metzora, is “Nega,” (e.g. Leviticus, 14:34), and it’s often used with a variation on the name of the <i>parashah</i>, “Tzara’at.” A “Nega Tzara’at” is sometimes translated as an “eruptive plague.” It’s interesting, though, that the root of the word “Nega” is also the verb “to touch,” and it’s used in that form repeatedly in our reading as well (e.g. "do not 'touch' (Noge'a) that 'plague' (Nega)!"). Based on that connection, I envision this type of plague as more personal, embarrassing, unpleasant, and touching/affecting the individual deeply. Certainly the plagues of Egypt - from the Passover story - are horrible too, but they also seemingly manifest differently.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizumEfwYXkMis_7wcfk6QmBOe-WBbJn0hRtgtsE3CEcOZD8RqcjWNL80VEsKkwanbaSbZzdJr5QZK1BhwUTYOSMYKz2JkD1GG2RUv093ijfvGhK3QvS2BmyYbS_H1GwMGUzJnQVLuYCGtU9bc91Hr4jJwJnvl8xGbPppDMymqWum4UuZ_ZOlypjoCUNQ/s3336/fifth%20plague%20of%20egypt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2544" data-original-width="3336" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizumEfwYXkMis_7wcfk6QmBOe-WBbJn0hRtgtsE3CEcOZD8RqcjWNL80VEsKkwanbaSbZzdJr5QZK1BhwUTYOSMYKz2JkD1GG2RUv093ijfvGhK3QvS2BmyYbS_H1GwMGUzJnQVLuYCGtU9bc91Hr4jJwJnvl8xGbPppDMymqWum4UuZ_ZOlypjoCUNQ/w200-h153/fifth%20plague%20of%20egypt.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>That kind of plague is referred to as a “Maka” or “Makot” (pl.). Interestingly, the Torah doesn’t refer to them by that name in the Exodus story itself. Within the narrative, it just refers to the specific scourge of each plague. In Deuteronomy, however, God talks about inflicting “Makot” on the Israelites if they do not follow God’s laws, like the ones rained down upon the Egyptians (Deut. 28:59-60). The root of this word is a “blow” or a “strike.” We still translate them as “plagues,” but I see these as connoting national or widespread affliction; more than just an individual attack on a person or someone’s home. And then, of course, we need to add in the word for our current “plague,” namely the Covid pandemic, which in Hebrew is referred to as a “Magefa.” The root of that term is “Guf,” which means “body,” so both affecting the individual person’s body, but also widespread across an entire population.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYcv1U2PdWpQnB0Kax4tHQDlecqZmz4Z_Gp6XgVgpYbyEvs_on1Hmc99si7ZsCQqe90XGwX8Y52qcoTsrf3Eurs26BBLGp9etiox9p41Zzu7yvlNhwutc3Kk7N9WEL77VOmTM58v_P-4ogXOeOhWxie2DrIxXygR56bVpi0ktMoA_9K15OeQlRSN4QA/s960/wash%20hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="960" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYcv1U2PdWpQnB0Kax4tHQDlecqZmz4Z_Gp6XgVgpYbyEvs_on1Hmc99si7ZsCQqe90XGwX8Y52qcoTsrf3Eurs26BBLGp9etiox9p41Zzu7yvlNhwutc3Kk7N9WEL77VOmTM58v_P-4ogXOeOhWxie2DrIxXygR56bVpi0ktMoA_9K15OeQlRSN4QA/w200-h133/wash%20hands.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>So what do we make of all this information? Well, I think it’s both true that there are a multitude of calamities that can affect us on many different levels, and yet all of them should make us pause, reflect, and consider our own actions. In each case, we could argue that the individual(s) didn’t cause the plague. It would, perhaps, be easy to just say, “Not my fault,” and wash our hands of the whole thing. But even when we may not have caused something, it may be a good opportunity to consider our role in the wider environment. God repeatedly reminds the people that these physical manifestations are externalized symptoms of something hidden inside. And sometimes, the only way to deal with something unpleasant, that we don’t want to look at, is to bring it out into the light and force ourselves to confront the pain. We may give them different names, and we may think of these various plagues as unrelated and certainly not of our own making… and yet we are nevertheless impacted and troubled by them. We suffer the repercussions and have to deal with the fallout, so it seems to me that we should use the opportunity to learn something here. Maybe we should focus less on the details and differences, and more on how we can reflect and grow as individuals and in our societies. That, perhaps, is the real remedy; regardless of the particular plague with which we are, well, plagued.<p></p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:<br />1. <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:TEA_STAIN.jpg">Sec c sonam</a> on <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/">Wikimedia Commons</a><br />2. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/lwr/32703560314">Leo Reynolds</a> on <a href="https://www.flickr.com/">Flickr</a><br />3. <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_fifth_plague_of_Egypt,_cattle_dying._Coloured_etching._Wellcome_V0010563.jpg">Wellcome Images</a> on <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/">Wikimedia Commons</a><br />4. <a href="https://pixabay.com/photos/washing-hands-wash-hands-hygiene-4940196/">Ivabalk</a> on <a href="https://pixabay.com/">Pixabay</a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-84776274227447480162022-04-01T12:55:00.000-07:002022-04-01T12:55:28.843-07:00Tazria (Ha-Chodesh and Rosh Chodesh): Take Out the Babysitting; Keep the Gratitude<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge_iD-QYCOfp7qVPqNXS3ElgIGfF_GsK8vWUVkDd_MD5tXU3B4dYV4yTF1EbTnzNfHgxeLlN1A7-eUT3xURl3o7urSdkqX-4TDrlVZX1iJ9oQwihsYVcauIKSShEk9XgzVDWFqNmx33eCsti8aK4amvCwZLhfa6aWvv-W1eX7euAgBc-vi-n9yBEOH-Q/s1024/passover%201920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="808" data-original-width="1024" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge_iD-QYCOfp7qVPqNXS3ElgIGfF_GsK8vWUVkDd_MD5tXU3B4dYV4yTF1EbTnzNfHgxeLlN1A7-eUT3xURl3o7urSdkqX-4TDrlVZX1iJ9oQwihsYVcauIKSShEk9XgzVDWFqNmx33eCsti8aK4amvCwZLhfa6aWvv-W1eX7euAgBc-vi-n9yBEOH-Q/w200-h158/passover%201920.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>We’ve ticked over into April. In general, that’s a very good thing, though it does also bring with it some anxiety - for us as Jews - because Passover is just *that* much closer. We might especially feel the coming of the holiday over the weekend, because this Shabbat includes a special reading, known as <a href="https://bethshalompgh.org/what-is-shabbat-hahodesh-originally-published-april-5-6-2019/">Ha-Chodesh</a> (meaning, “The Month”), basically heralding the approach of the festival. I talked about this special Torah reading <a href="http://takeontorah.blogspot.com/2021/03/vayakhel-pekudei-ha-chodesh-as-if.html?m=0">last year</a> as well, but I find myself returning to it yet again, for reasons that I hope will become clear as you read on. The particular text that we read for Shabbat Ha-Chodesh comes from the Book of Exodus; specifically the first twenty verses of chapter 12. God instructs Moses to inform the Israelites - while still in slavery - that something really monumental is about to occur. This month will become the first month of our soon-to-be-established Jewish calendar, because of this huge upcoming event. God’s instructions for them will be enshrined as “a festival to Adonai throughout the ages; you shall celebrate it as an institution for all time.” (v. 14) You understand what this means, don’t you? “Throughout the ages” and “for all time” means that you and I, today, in 2022, here in the United States, are obligated to observe all these rituals and commandments as well. So it’s probably good to do a quick review of what God has actually commanded us to do, don’t you think?<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiniMb4yzUsAcfwA6vO6uF-O8MUcRCMdQzrbknKvTcLTJcRwCd_SNHZFi16BFlcV26l5T31Fvyfg8638VNifoNWiMfZoMXANECiCbfkwNNmBPjC3owW-8QXMfDNUmTppUO39OrDOurvZNCJIXAK3OOSzBhGp0BDbhJNaY9bNuDYayTy9LPrUIyrQvR2Yg/s1700/babysitting%20course.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1700" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiniMb4yzUsAcfwA6vO6uF-O8MUcRCMdQzrbknKvTcLTJcRwCd_SNHZFi16BFlcV26l5T31Fvyfg8638VNifoNWiMfZoMXANECiCbfkwNNmBPjC3owW-8QXMfDNUmTppUO39OrDOurvZNCJIXAK3OOSzBhGp0BDbhJNaY9bNuDYayTy9LPrUIyrQvR2Yg/w188-h200/babysitting%20course.jpg" width="188" /></a></div>It gets a little tricky though, I’ll be honest with you. God does lay out some specific rituals for the pre-Exodus Israelites (which I’ll lay out in a second), but one question I have is, are we required to observe every part of these instructions forever, or just the celebration of the holiday *itself* for all time? They seem very still-in-slavery specific, so I’m a little unclear on what we’re meant to do. The text states in verse three that each family needs to “take a lamb” on the 10th of Nisan, and then “watch over it until the 14th day of the month” (v. 6), and then slaughter it at twilight. So right off the bat, I have not done a good job with my four-day-lamb-babysitting duties, nor have I brought it to slaughter before the holiday. I’m guessing you haven’t been observing that one either. Then we’re told to “eat it [the lamb] roasted over fire with unleavened bread and bitter herbs” (v. 8). Honestly, we’re all doing ok on that one. We have the bone (Zeroa) on the Seder plate to *commemorate* the paschal lamb offering we no longer consume, and then we *do* eat the bread (matzah) and herbs (maror) as prescribed. Good job, us!<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj14wOIPCjjWA_OySk3etJ0uo-isJXMu1y-7pHxjkLkrjbXYuYeGg6VosRKAxndMP1P9GG6g63TlSSeBvSZ_ZxvykiMEU0y8VhztWp_BYo528RwD6q1D5IuTW4fZQmtdsXsau0GCkRYAj_tcBpNMXRne_u1884QzUzcOBJXLgZovTtUxHF3FlLgQTTc5Q/s259/sandals.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj14wOIPCjjWA_OySk3etJ0uo-isJXMu1y-7pHxjkLkrjbXYuYeGg6VosRKAxndMP1P9GG6g63TlSSeBvSZ_ZxvykiMEU0y8VhztWp_BYo528RwD6q1D5IuTW4fZQmtdsXsau0GCkRYAj_tcBpNMXRne_u1884QzUzcOBJXLgZovTtUxHF3FlLgQTTc5Q/w200-h150/sandals.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>Then it gets dicey again, because the Torah instructs us as follows: “This is how you shall eat it: your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand, and you shall eat it hurriedly…” (v. 11) Oh, and I forgot to mention back in verse seven, that we were supposed to paint the doorposts of our homes with lamb’s blood. I’m being a little flippant, but I do want to make a genuine point here: God instructs us to keep this holiday, and it is worth our taking a few minutes to stop and think about which aspects of these observances have survived across the millennia, and which have changed. It’s both fascinating to see that some rituals have indeed been enshrined, while others have outlived their usefulness or lost their meaning. But even if we no longer paint blood on our doorposts, babysit lambs, or wear our sandals on our feet as we scarf down our food, the importance of the holiday for us as a people - for all time - has not been lost on us. It was monumental back then, and I think our ancestors would genuinely be awed to discover how central it has remained for us “throughout the ages.”<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxy-xtRIvh1T6vK4H7Vq-w6V31vqNMnahlj7BhpHuQGXzvYPO-QTpkqTROpHBMox7eMtDU4LsUnDKvyM2DPYWlmemrG4KS4u1vPmtOWXl1tpXDGwa1B39c-DQNwm2bAYieCWLtUKRZ6M-GfVi3yCQQ86RD0UmrKVJBDjYnWTmKNB94SLqvOucAFz3_gA/s1024/bedouin%20tent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxy-xtRIvh1T6vK4H7Vq-w6V31vqNMnahlj7BhpHuQGXzvYPO-QTpkqTROpHBMox7eMtDU4LsUnDKvyM2DPYWlmemrG4KS4u1vPmtOWXl1tpXDGwa1B39c-DQNwm2bAYieCWLtUKRZ6M-GfVi3yCQQ86RD0UmrKVJBDjYnWTmKNB94SLqvOucAFz3_gA/w200-h150/bedouin%20tent.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>There is value in looking at both sides here; the underlying meaning of the holiday as well as its practical observances. I think constructing our Seder to, in as many ways as possible, truly mirror the Exodus story can be magical, inspiring, and fun. In years past, I have put strips of red paper on the door posts, actually marched around the Seder table (as many Persian and Iraqi Jews still do), and I know people who sit on pillows on the floor to make it feel more “Middle Eastern.” So going through the motions and inclining (or reclining?) our rituals to actually feel more ancient or connected to our ancestors can be really meaningful for participants of all ages. At the same time, we should talk about the underlying message, which is slavery, freedom, and gratitude. To put it succinctly: We were severely oppressed, and we no longer are… and therefore we should be grateful. And one way that we show our appreciation to God is by “paying it forward,” and looking out for others who are enslaved and/or oppressed and/or in need of rescuing. This year, I encourage all of us to mention Ukraine at our Seder tables, to really think about how we can do our part to help others who are living under oppression, and who are - so tragically - starting their own Exodus away from everything they previously knew. Even as our rituals and observances have changed, aspects of Pesach have endured throughout the ages, and for good reason. It is our job to keep talking about those reasons, going through those ritual motions, and embodying those critical values in every generation, and yes, for all time. <p></p><p><br /></p><div>CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:<br />1. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/magnesmuseum/3840967972">The Magnes Collection of Jewish Art and Life</a> on <a href="http://www.flickr.com">Flickr</a> (picture from ca. 1920)<br />2. <a href="https://depositphotos.com/300792322/stock-illustration-informative-poster-babysitting-course-cartoon.html">symkin</a> on <a href="https://depositphotos.com/">Depositphotos</a><br />3. <a href="https://pxhere.com/en/photo/763640">pxhere.com</a><br />4. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/sackerman519/5089823143">Studio Sarah Lou</a> on <a href="https://www.flickr.com/">Flickr</a></div><p><br /></p>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-36125354419032833062022-03-25T08:28:00.000-07:002022-03-25T08:28:29.541-07:00Shemini (Shabbat Parah): Magic Purity Potion (Read the Warning Label...)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLcYd2Bg4J1LgZT8gpZDO47vgjTE5wo7J-ZRBOwInbJYGaK2bLutDTN3hVdz7qc9b_zTZ4wI6BlpMQ6wofxIP5YY6GmSZeDnAdlhojKeBxARn7dc7JJtnReoQMjShq6VUtTqrVpzllPVD4sj6TsSesZr5UIhbvA2vWFl1AcHVEvzlXu1wN1-Jft_Adw/s400/brown%20cow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="383" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLcYd2Bg4J1LgZT8gpZDO47vgjTE5wo7J-ZRBOwInbJYGaK2bLutDTN3hVdz7qc9b_zTZ4wI6BlpMQ6wofxIP5YY6GmSZeDnAdlhojKeBxARn7dc7JJtnReoQMjShq6VUtTqrVpzllPVD4sj6TsSesZr5UIhbvA2vWFl1AcHVEvzlXu1wN1-Jft_Adw/w191-h200/brown%20cow.jpg" width="191" /></a></div>Recently, when we were celebrating the holiday of Purim, I talked to the congregation about the difference between a story being labeled a tragedy vs. a comedy. They may seem like opposite ends of the literary spectrum, but sometimes they’re actually just one plot twist apart. The Book of Esther, for instance, reads an awful lot like a tragedy… right up until Haman’s evil plans are thwarted, and now the story is a comedy. Sometimes things that seem so different from one another are actually just a minor shift away from being nearly identical. Case in point, a very mysterious, peculiar ritual that is the focus of this week’s special Shabbat. As we continue to prepare ourselves for Pesach, one of the stops along the way is Shabbat Parah, “the Shabbat of the Cow.” The special Torah reading for this Shabbat describes a ritual used to purify someone who had become ritually impure, in order to allow them to partake of the upcoming Paschal offering. The ceremony revolved around the sacrificing of a “red” (probably closer to brown…) cow, and then using its ashes as the main ingredient for this purifying agent. But that’s actually not the part that I think makes this so curious and confusing. Or why I was reminded of the minor distinction between comedies and tragedies.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8WT1KFNRqzvNGos5FXicK2X9p8ohkK8VVz0wUJZ8JtdfY3XMfCGM0cTbEKCth7kUixybbt_ZOqDm5Kp3Gn2IK8EKGvlrJso8d_yOadxViiqsITEzkwX9Oq6iIfRyHUnKLrQQXXmP8Wy_uxkXNkBRay6WRYvfQ3kVt77VUb_6HVr9RCZZ0r1NBGEePjQ/s1024/elixir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8WT1KFNRqzvNGos5FXicK2X9p8ohkK8VVz0wUJZ8JtdfY3XMfCGM0cTbEKCth7kUixybbt_ZOqDm5Kp3Gn2IK8EKGvlrJso8d_yOadxViiqsITEzkwX9Oq6iIfRyHUnKLrQQXXmP8Wy_uxkXNkBRay6WRYvfQ3kVt77VUb_6HVr9RCZZ0r1NBGEePjQ/w150-h200/elixir.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>The Book of Numbers tells us there were basically four “jobs” involved with preparing this miracle elixir that could make anything ritually pure again: A priest to oversee the sacrificing and burning of the cow. A second priest to actually handle the fire and the burning. A third individual to carry the ashes from the altar to a spot outside the Israelite encampment. And a final, fourth person to sprinkle a mixture of water and sacred ashes over the impure person(s). And then, presto-chango, they are rendered pure. Numbers, 19:19, states: “[The purified individual] shall then wash his clothes and bathe in water, and at nightfall he shall be pure.” Pretty straightforward, right? The ritual worked! But here’s the thing: All four of those people who handled the ashes from the red cow are now considered impure! Anyone who came in direct contact with this purifying agent is now, inexplicably, “contaminated,” and remains impure until the evening. This really fascinates me. It’s almost like saying that if you handle a bottle of Windex, you immediately become filthy yourself! It’s a little counter-intuitive, no?<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4PUjokSOGByv9j6965tx8L8VVYPPfa_xRVgsOmPhlDuc9Yvn4o7r6vJnUYSjToWusD3dDDmFH5iGocwLfMMihRJF7f5fMsJh0Jes_b-fHdnul1-iUARWe0SLiBlnzN8d94CU5koIkR6P-cnxmThyedErAUZkUKR2L_OPKA5z_GSUcxi0mc_cSKHYTQ/s800/car%20wash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="800" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4PUjokSOGByv9j6965tx8L8VVYPPfa_xRVgsOmPhlDuc9Yvn4o7r6vJnUYSjToWusD3dDDmFH5iGocwLfMMihRJF7f5fMsJh0Jes_b-fHdnul1-iUARWe0SLiBlnzN8d94CU5koIkR6P-cnxmThyedErAUZkUKR2L_OPKA5z_GSUcxi0mc_cSKHYTQ/w200-h134/car%20wash.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>One might have thought that everyone who gets near this fabulous potion is automatically pure, just by association or proximity. But instead, it seems to have just *one* intended purpose - to cleanse someone who was already in this impure state. Everyone who was essentially “neutral” becomes impure from touching the stuff. Though I should clarify, however, that the level of impurity is quite different. The person being cleansed would have otherwise remained in that contaminated state forever, and would thus never be able to rejoin the community for any ritual observances. Those who handled the ashes of the red heifer, on the other hand, are only impure until the evening; then they’re able to return to the community again. But the more I think about it, the more it actually makes sense. If someone cleans houses or washes cars all day, they are by no means clean themselves when the work is over! And on a deeper level, there are many examples of tools of learning, peace, communication, and convenience that can very easily become corrupted and turned into weapons of destruction and oppression. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiczLBFkHndgwLHsTDNZ9ud08zOa8wzHqmvKpmLBvF0qFStGfruVIZhDhhmOnBSPgS5NMIpmoG6zriC69N7PACIOoeDhmW2KbGnKiP2s-Q80tvyOcRVAbZfRnoh9eMJKc9fSneapy0vRMS7vP1ghY58fa0uP-N0bs7OrkEoK2S9b-Q3fHgCpDRYHQiZJA/s1600/long%20lines.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiczLBFkHndgwLHsTDNZ9ud08zOa8wzHqmvKpmLBvF0qFStGfruVIZhDhhmOnBSPgS5NMIpmoG6zriC69N7PACIOoeDhmW2KbGnKiP2s-Q80tvyOcRVAbZfRnoh9eMJKc9fSneapy0vRMS7vP1ghY58fa0uP-N0bs7OrkEoK2S9b-Q3fHgCpDRYHQiZJA/w200-h150/long%20lines.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Whether it’s a literal weapon used for self-defense or an ancient, sacred text like the Bible; it can be utilized to help and protect… or, conversely, to hurt and punish. Most things that are purifying agents - or at least have the capacity to clean or repair - can also be abused if placed in the wrong hands. Perhaps a central reason for insisting that everyone who touches the ashes of the red heifer remain impure for a time, and stay outside the camp until the evening, is to make sure they understand and respect their task. If these ashes are the only agent of total purification… how much couldn’t you charge to give others access, after making them wait in line? Or how much power could you demand from your community, so as not to withhold this precious substance? It is easy to see how this could become corrupted, and wielded as a weapon very, very quickly. Today, the language of “pure” and “impure” doesn’t resonate as much in modern society. Yet I hope the contemporary examples above have demonstrated the relevance this teaching still holds for us today. Do we insist that our leaders undergo a ritual or ceremony to truly impress upon them the awesome and daunting power of their position? Sadly, I don’t think we do. Or certainly not enough. Maybe as soon as they’ve performed their tasks, we should quarantine them for a day (or more), so that they can be humbled, reflect, and give thanks for their unique and vital role. Perhaps that could help turn a few more tragedies into comedies.<p></p><p><br /></p><div>CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:<br />1. <a href="https://world.openfoodfacts.org/product/0088194340041/strawberry-yogurt-brown-cow">Open Food Facts</a><br />2. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/zphaze/4779497868/">zphaze</a> on <a href="https://www.flickr.com">Flickr</a><br />3. <a href="https://www.rawpixel.com/search/car%20wash?page=1&sort=curated">rawpixel</a><br />4. <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Voting_Ohio_2008.jpg">Dean Beeler</a> on <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/">Wikimedia Commons</a></div><p><br /></p>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-561799877777463262022-03-18T14:24:00.000-07:002022-03-18T14:24:18.805-07:00Tzav: Smells Like a Fond Memory<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhYozOR2AokwUe015TOewAUDkdk-Vn5x5JUvtlDf8z8LO9R7xFXc_z36rOTgGWyb9h7Waj-phcoPbRLxo1D7l2caiPFDKqjLZxovnZVM3IHiEnMYhvWftRCBdfdMX1pW1dRqw3x1mXrhIwMo9LBQxxNLfU11ep1-xfiqd01HoKSkHteMv72SCUX5CortA=s1024" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="730" data-original-width="1024" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhYozOR2AokwUe015TOewAUDkdk-Vn5x5JUvtlDf8z8LO9R7xFXc_z36rOTgGWyb9h7Waj-phcoPbRLxo1D7l2caiPFDKqjLZxovnZVM3IHiEnMYhvWftRCBdfdMX1pW1dRqw3x1mXrhIwMo9LBQxxNLfU11ep1-xfiqd01HoKSkHteMv72SCUX5CortA=w200-h143" width="200" /></a></div>Now that we’ve passed the holiday of Purim, it feels like Passover - and spring - are right around the corner. Even though the weather has been fluctuating wildly, there’s still evidence of the seasons changing all around us. Flower buds poking out, it’s getting lighter and lighter, and everything seems to smell like spring. Once Pesach gets even closer, our sense of smell will truly kick into high gear; first when we clean for the holiday, then when the familiar festival foods start cooking, and eventually when we sit around the Seder table in less than a month. With all this in mind (or in “nose”…), I’d like to spend this blog post talking about our sense of smell. And not just ours, but the Torah portion this week appears to spend a lot of time picturing God’s sense of smell too!<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh551cMvTjJwZWmWdP8UgLeXUIKj_IW6yvXa6kB6a1_MmSsbYsqUAOigaOgSzZ6tPomfrCJIV0iMtjcSESFa6UxpOw4eKrAxUms2la-JwrdLakmCWvcylKjRsyRlX69EAUvweFvPWj8tkSjxTNqWISP5MjCKChhM-mkvs60wXxrJJOuev8FTzE8kqJ4ug=s1800" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh551cMvTjJwZWmWdP8UgLeXUIKj_IW6yvXa6kB6a1_MmSsbYsqUAOigaOgSzZ6tPomfrCJIV0iMtjcSESFa6UxpOw4eKrAxUms2la-JwrdLakmCWvcylKjRsyRlX69EAUvweFvPWj8tkSjxTNqWISP5MjCKChhM-mkvs60wXxrJJOuev8FTzE8kqJ4ug=w133-h200" width="133" /></a></div>Now that we’re into the Book of Leviticus, the text is really hyper-focused on the ancient sacrifices and all the rituals surrounding them. And while the text may emphasize the sacrifices themselves and the people doing the offering, the real focus of all of this is God. The sacrificial rite was essentially The Way that our ancestors communicated with the Divine. And how did they know if their offerings were accepted? The text repeatedly tells us that the smoke from the altar, wafting up to heaven, would produce “a pleasing odor to Adonai” (Lev. 6:8, 14; 8:21, 28). Watching the mists rising into the sky would tell the worshiper that God was listening… and smelling. The ancient rabbis emphasized that this term, “pleasing odor to Adonai,” was used to describe the most simple to the most complex offerings. It referred to gifts from poor and wealthy alike. The Mishnah states: “ "This teaches you that whether a person gives a costly one or an inexpensive one, as long as he directs his heart to heaven, the type is irrelevant." (Menachot 110a) In other words, what God is “enjoying” isn’t the smell of the food or the animal, but rather the meaning behind our intentions. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsdylZyzdY53dB8Q9xesps88rjmymKlsAWrl3fPT2U9_zYiZsqZAzUJvdBv0X8kEaMioGrgoaSzgPAB_0QpRfn4RO16_lQ0DDPr-1uYrwawarPHqD-lqK2rCgyjXfXDv9d8ne_Umw96UFVUeIUT0pDti6OJP0wSEa7SrUCnCx6ULnwI9USdhnrTLNmWQ=s275" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsdylZyzdY53dB8Q9xesps88rjmymKlsAWrl3fPT2U9_zYiZsqZAzUJvdBv0X8kEaMioGrgoaSzgPAB_0QpRfn4RO16_lQ0DDPr-1uYrwawarPHqD-lqK2rCgyjXfXDv9d8ne_Umw96UFVUeIUT0pDti6OJP0wSEa7SrUCnCx6ULnwI9USdhnrTLNmWQ=w200-h133" width="200" /></a></div>Furthermore, whether we’re talking about God’s olfactory sense or ours, it’s clear that the meaning is deeper than just the aroma. The very first instance of the Torah referring to a “pleasing odor” (Ray-ach Nee-cho-ach) was back in Genesis, chapter 8, when God smelled Noah’s offering right after he emerged from the Ark, and immediately promised never to send another flood to destroy humanity. The scent seems to have triggered something for God, much like a perfume, spice, or food may “flood” our brain with memories. More than any other sense, fragrances can take us back to a long-forgotten memory with remarkable speed and accuracy. According to the mystical teachings of the Kabbalah, smell was regarded as the loftiest and most transcendent of the senses, the critical connection point between body and soul. Perhaps it doesn’t just work that way for us, but for Adonai as well.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjr3Rlrm_A60AMG_mARR5lmhiLGvaBsy5ldrFZLPLpIqdQTGh8fzC5He8yGkzTFUUHNlruwyLGnvrPAoveDfSt1B7p_l8pCZMCrzG4BhbXhcUILJXlSnc0btyxWBmLqArJJaCHb-1mtGHA47hHPOnH0IeBsZ3gTPfNHzhsosrx1MINUO8HmE81_fOdEww=s2560" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1648" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjr3Rlrm_A60AMG_mARR5lmhiLGvaBsy5ldrFZLPLpIqdQTGh8fzC5He8yGkzTFUUHNlruwyLGnvrPAoveDfSt1B7p_l8pCZMCrzG4BhbXhcUILJXlSnc0btyxWBmLqArJJaCHb-1mtGHA47hHPOnH0IeBsZ3gTPfNHzhsosrx1MINUO8HmE81_fOdEww=w129-h200" width="129" /></a></div>Smells aren’t as closely tied to our Jewish rituals any longer. We have the <i>besamim</i>, spices, at the Havdalah ceremony that ends Shabbat every week, but otherwise smells seem more tangential or connected to customs and foods, rather than ritual or theology. But it is still significant to read in our ancient texts how pivotal our noses were, and how the “pleasing odor” from our various offerings were seen as a direct sign of God’s acceptance. As we move further into spring and closer to Pesach, I invite each of us to think about what smells remind us of this upcoming season. How closely linked to your nose are your own associations with nature and with Passover’s foods, rituals, and experiences? It isn’t always the first sense we focus on, yet when we really stop and think about it, it is quite significantly hard-wired to our memories and our emotions. Winter is behind us, the pandemic is receding (thank God), and even though we don’t know what lies ahead or what the future holds, now seems like a perfectly good time to stop and smell the roses… as well as the matzah ball soup, the <i>charoset</i> and <i>maror</i>, and all the other fragrances that connect us - and God - to this wonderful, aromatic season!<p></p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:<br />1. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/46145831@N00/332891815">Eric Horst</a> on <a href="https://www.flickr.com/">Flickr</a><br />2. <a href="https://pxhere.com/en/photo/783737">pxhere.com</a><br />3. <a href="https://pxhere.com/en/photo/1084630">pxhere.com</a><br />4. <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Havdalah.jpg">Olaf herfurth</a> on <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/">Wikimedia Commons</a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5002237559172297914.post-67951254674109859472022-03-11T07:26:00.001-08:002022-03-11T07:26:22.747-08:00Vayikra (Shabbat Zachor): Remembering What it Means to be Human<p><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgW_pRvOBHkEzA4NgVdz8hllCv59P8TY2Yu4WzKR7wvK0tLW3DSYiYNDaOB-MzrRs0XcMXzRyORZneZJHw1Pey9hWhbuS-BaPRS4zqUJuEI8h3ndGxs21aU14dlmfabdwqxnBsMc5zLhpYTnEJDX5mQrvxbODIQkJi8xsoGBVMUa-hFH9NSlCVIREEvEA=s800" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgW_pRvOBHkEzA4NgVdz8hllCv59P8TY2Yu4WzKR7wvK0tLW3DSYiYNDaOB-MzrRs0XcMXzRyORZneZJHw1Pey9hWhbuS-BaPRS4zqUJuEI8h3ndGxs21aU14dlmfabdwqxnBsMc5zLhpYTnEJDX5mQrvxbODIQkJi8xsoGBVMUa-hFH9NSlCVIREEvEA=w200-h133" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times;">Right now, Russia’s war against the Ukraine and the Ukrainian people dominates the newspaper headlines. Are we disproportionately concerned with this conflict, over the plights of the <a href="https://www.hrw.org/tag/rohingya">Rohingya</a> from Myanmar, the <a href="https://uyghurnextgen.org/?gclid=CjwKCAiA4KaRBhBdEiwAZi1zzpSLwXIQidiG9VOFJCCjawX6-b37GrYGuS1e-Ju3xvHmdBTCFFGv9BoCQxsQAvD_BwE">Uyghurs</a> in China, or any other oppressed group around the world? Honestly, yes, we are. It’s not the most flattering aspect of human nature, but we are prone to care about people who look and live like us. But there are also understandable reasons to be hyper-focused on this war: The global threat of a nuclear superpower like Russia attacking neighboring countries at will is simply terrifying. And to us as Jews, it may feel disturbingly like the mid-1930s, which makes it absolutely imperative that the world not accept Putin’s show of strength or thirst for power. Yet as incensed as we certainly are, we must also admit that megalomania too is a familiar byproduct of human nature. This Shabbat, our calendar has brought us to an interesting special observance that is very relevant to the stories in the newspaper headlines. And it brings with it a lesson that we absolutely, positively cannot ever afford to forget.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhcw1hMn-IxBRMDJsgOGSfkSVYwOMfLGeXJ-WA-Lv_JOpyJpnkbcxcW2WwvbXWmmoqCzQ517ntG_XiX0AZO-S69Df6fyHlt7Oc_6Z8kp4Z3XbEACyTqYY2AR1Id39LOEcWcJs6u2faL7iQMt1SOk42hbTqo2p91i5ZxQGTstZA2uOdrFbicHiEHDFH6bA=s4348" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3258" data-original-width="4348" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhcw1hMn-IxBRMDJsgOGSfkSVYwOMfLGeXJ-WA-Lv_JOpyJpnkbcxcW2WwvbXWmmoqCzQ517ntG_XiX0AZO-S69Df6fyHlt7Oc_6Z8kp4Z3XbEACyTqYY2AR1Id39LOEcWcJs6u2faL7iQMt1SOk42hbTqo2p91i5ZxQGTstZA2uOdrFbicHiEHDFH6bA=w200-h150" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times;">The Shabbat before Purim (which begins on Wednesday evening, 3/16) is always known as Shabbat Zachor, or the Shabbat of Remembrance. What we are specifically remembering is that Haman - the Megillah’s infamous villain - was a descendant of the Amalekite people. The Amalekites repeatedly attacked the Children of Israel as they traveled through the wilderness. They weren’t the only enemy we encountered, but their tactics were particularly heinous, as they would sneak up on the older, weaker, infirm Israelites straggling along at the back. So as we prepare to read about Haman’s hatred of the Jews, we remind ourselves that his anti-Semitism was not an isolated incident or an anomaly; it is something we’ve confronted in every generation, and against which we must always - in future generations too - remain vigilant as well. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFUvGi_ElTKWkJLwo0s5Q-wxLxx_rOS8R6eaINThZ3LDYcHyMUavdoTxEGhJV3pVF7NwWwfsKejK9j1qgV9pf74sIhf6mKjWMNXhyZu83-GG6QTe2xZQ0j6M4a-XY20feM6UfUYcK6d2KHGyCe400lnbikOnS4tZsOrsAjhRCTDjU-ton03BzNNYOe8Q=s284" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="177" data-original-width="284" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFUvGi_ElTKWkJLwo0s5Q-wxLxx_rOS8R6eaINThZ3LDYcHyMUavdoTxEGhJV3pVF7NwWwfsKejK9j1qgV9pf74sIhf6mKjWMNXhyZu83-GG6QTe2xZQ0j6M4a-XY20feM6UfUYcK6d2KHGyCe400lnbikOnS4tZsOrsAjhRCTDjU-ton03BzNNYOe8Q=w200-h125" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times;">I recently read a Torah commentary on Shabbat Zachor by a former professor of mine from the Schechter Institute in Jerusalem, Professor David Frankel. Frankel writes: “</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: times; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">Amalek represents that which is evil, destructive, and reflects a lack of morality and a basic sense of decency.” Then he goes on to add a challenge that we all need to take to heart: </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: times; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">“</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: times; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">The fear and the danger that the Torah wants to warn against is that we may forget that this is humanity. That this is part of humanity. We may think that we are somehow in a new era, that mankind has advanced, civilization has advanced, and so we can plan our world for a brighter future without worry. The Torah teaches us “zachor”, always remember</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: #fbf8f1; font-family: times; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: times; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">because what happened with Amalek is paradigmatic of the human character and nature.” And that is why I included my comments in the first paragraph above - caring more about people who look like us is our default human instinct, and we, as a species, are also prone to produce heartless, narcissistic dictators obsessed with power. Are these pleasant things to acknowledge about ourselves? No. But the Torah is reminding us that we still must look at these characteristics, or we’ll always be doomed to repeat our worst behaviors.</span><p></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: times; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: times; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjfkffNLQEyCg3r9UxC238g2-m_msQXZ7rvoXGPp8xF1TSjeM8g1lMQbFIVqEnyGVRmq4u_s0gMFL_0m0EyKYLPwH-tOlY5g3Zdni8t-tnzHyRtNobgLo2I5IsfeYyl6urXnT1a0jauR1s5NmCN-uneXZKwO5_OujiF5Xt8ko56vh3b8IniblulmKpkg=s800" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjfkffNLQEyCg3r9UxC238g2-m_msQXZ7rvoXGPp8xF1TSjeM8g1lMQbFIVqEnyGVRmq4u_s0gMFL_0m0EyKYLPwH-tOlY5g3Zdni8t-tnzHyRtNobgLo2I5IsfeYyl6urXnT1a0jauR1s5NmCN-uneXZKwO5_OujiF5Xt8ko56vh3b8IniblulmKpkg=w200-h133" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: times; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">In its brutal campaign, <a href="https://www.cnn.com/2022/03/09/europe/russia-invasion-ukraine-evacuations-03-09-intl/index.html">Russia has reportedly bombed a maternity and children’s hospital</a>. They opened up a humanitarian corridor for civilians to escape… but tried to force those paths to lead straight into Russia and Belarus. More and more atrocities are being committed every day. This too is Amalek. It is not an anomaly or a shocking, unexpected thing for a delusional despot like Vladimir Putin to undertake. Professor Frankel reminds us: “</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: times; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto;">The evil which is within humanity does not go away, we have to fight it in each generation.” And this then is our generation’s fight against the Amalekites. Just as it is also our responsibility to push back against our default inclination to mainly help people like ourselves. We are obligated to defend the Rohingya, the Uyghurs, and oppressed groups everywhere... including disenfranchised and marginalized groups who live in this country. There are countless ways that you can help, but here’s one that our congregation recently set up on our website:</span><p></p><p><a href="https://www.ohev.net/form/Aid-for-Ukraine">https://www.ohev.net/form/Aid-for-Ukraine</a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-size-adjust: auto;">Kindness, compassion, defending others, and offering our support and assistance; these are also essential features of humanity. Obviously, we prefer to focus on those attributes, and donating to help the Ukrainians is a praiseworthy way of inhabiting our better selves. But we do need to acknowledge the darker, more sinister sides as well. We ignore them at our own peril, and we simply cannot afford to do that. Lo Tishkach! - Do not forget!</span></span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:<br /></span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">1. <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Moscow_Russia_anti-Putin_Graffiti_R-EVOLUTION-2.jpg">victorgrigas</a> on <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/">Wikimedia Commons</a><br /></span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">2. <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:%22Megillah%22,_esther_scroll,_cast_and_engraved_silver_and_silver_gilt_case,_(8605734851).jpg">Tilemahos Efthimiadis</a> on <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/">Wikimedia Commons</a></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">3. <a href="https://openclipart.org/detail/222029/humanity-gears">GDJ</a> on <a href="http://openclipart.org">openclipart.org</a></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">4. <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anti-terrorist_operation_in_eastern_Ukraine_(War_Ukraine)_(27095245666).jpg">Ministry of Defense of Ukraine</a> on <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/">Wikimedia Commons</a></span></span></div><p><span face="neue-haas-grotesk-display, sans-serif" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></p>Rabbi Jeremy Gerberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12636390142976572118noreply@blogger.com0