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

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

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

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

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

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

Acharei Mot: The Letter and the Spirit Square Off

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.

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, “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?

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…

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 parashah 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.

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. Magnes Database Record on Flickr
2. FotoGuy 49057 on Flickr
3. Rawpixel
4. Peggy_Marco on Pixabay

Tetzaveh: And You Thought It was Only Used for Cooking...

Often, when I sit down to write this blog, I stumble on a word, phrase, sentence, or theme in the week’s reading that catches my attention. I research it a little, massage the idea in my head before sharing it with you, and then sometimes add a little “spice” or “fragrance” at the end. I think you’ll see what I mean. :-) This week, we’re learning about the garments, behaviors, and practices of Aaron, the High Priest, and the other Kohanim (priests) in the ancient Tabernacle in the desert. They had a lot of rules. A lot of regulations, expectations, strictures, parameters, and guidelines. It definitely wasn’t an easy job, and being the intermediaries to connect with the Divine for the ENTIRE people certainly didn’t make the stakes any lower either! And it was the initiation ritual - to really *grease* the wheels and gears of the whole operation, and get it up and running - that peaked my interest this time.

In Exodus 29:7, having read that Aaron and his sons were clothed in all the ritual garb prescribed, and that they’re FINALLY ready to get to work, Moses actually *anoints* them to complete their transformation into holy priests: “Take the anointing oil, and pour it on his [Aaron’s] head.” (Also mentioned in Ex. 28:41) Interestingly, the word for “anoint” in Hebrew is “limshoch,” and this root gives us the word “Mashiach,” or “Messiah,” meaning “anointed one.” Of course, when many of us think of the word “Messiah,” we may jump to a very Christian, Christ-filled context, or drift off into the world of eschatology, meaning End of Days theology, and the questions of an ultimate Redeemer or Savior coming to rescue us all on Judgment Day. In other words, it’s a pretty loaded term. Which is also why I often like to point out that the word itself just means “rubbed [with oil].” It was originally a technical term for installing the ancient High Priest (from our parashah), then became a ceremony for proclaiming a new king (from the First Book of Samuel), and eventually morphed into this notion of an Ultimate King, a Sovereign - chosen by God - to save us at the End Of It All.

Then I got to thinking: why oil? Why this particular ritual, and not some other way of initiating someone into a high position of authority? Like a knighting ceremony, or a swearing in with a Holy Text, or perhaps just a hazing ritual; why oil, and why poured over the head and rubbed into the skin? I was fascinated to read (under the topic of “Holy Anointing Oil”) that our ancient ancestors associated foul odors with disease, decay, rotting processes, and death. Even then, they didn’t mean it was awful or evil, just a reminder of mortality, of how transient life is, and that all (mundane) things die. Conversely, pleasing aromas were both associated with cleanliness and vitality, but also food production, harvesting, abundance, and immortality. Fragrances in ritual worship became a necessity, because they would elevate the experiences of the people, and remind them of holiness and divinity, and were also seen as “pleasing” to God. Throughout the Torah, and even in later books like Psalms, the text refers to Adonai enjoying the “rayach nichoach,” “pleasing aroma” of the sacrificial offerings. 

I have also recently been learning more about meditative practices, yoga, energy, and other ways to connect to our inner selves and to spiritual aspects of the world beyond ourselves. One of the practices in this discipline revolves around - you guessed it - essential oils. Not just the oil itself, but specifically FRAGRANT oil, just like we read about in the Bible. In this world of spiritual healing, essential oils “bypass the brain” and connect to a higher, yet deeper side of ourselves. I'm not saying you have to rush out and smear yourselves in essential oils, but just sit with the concept for a second. How often do we think of spirituality through the olfactory sense? Not too often, I venture to say. And the physical aspect of actually *rubbing* oil into the skin definitely has calming and relaxing benefits. How crazy is this really? Just ponder it, without judgment. Notice how we can engage our senses in so many different ways. We sometimes call this New Age-y stuff, but how fascinating to see it date back to the Torah! It is always good to challenge ourselves to see something in a new way. I hope that my pointing out the connection between Aaron's ritual, then anointing a king, to Messianic hopes, to spiritual self-healing has opened your mind a little. And maybe your nostrils too! :-)

CC images in this blog post, all from Pixabay, courtesy of:
1. Pavlofox
2. stevepb
3. marcosantiago
4. mohamed_hasan

Behar-Bechukotai: Don't Shoot, Stone, or Sting the Messenger!

Hey there. It's me again, Rabbi Gerber. So, um, thanks for coming back to my blog. Great to have you here. I imagine you've returned to hear something uplifting, maybe inspiring, or at least something to get your mind off the coronavirus epidemic??? Ha, ha! So... funny story. Um... about that... Ok, ok, I'm gonna stop beating around the bush here, and be forthcoming

with you: This Torah portion isn't pretty, folks. And I don't mean gross or ethically problematic or theologically upsetting. No, this one is going to hit home. I need to say something that is going to sound a little prophetic, and not in the form of cool-predictions-about-the-future or awesome-conjuring-of-divine-miracles. No, the yelling-at-us-all-for-destroying-our-planet-and-ignoring-all-the-warning-signs kind of way. Friends, it's bad. I don't like being the bearer of scary news. But I also can't shy away from what I see as my obligation, which is to hold up the text and say, "SEE?!?!? It's right here!! Why is it so hard for us - for ALL of us - to listen?!?!?!?!" So, I guess, if you really don't wanna hear angry-preachy Rabbi Gerber, this is probably a good time to stop reading. Oh, and if you DO read on, please don't shoot (or otherwise attack) the messenger, ok??? Oy. Here goes:

Our parashah this week includes a section called the "Tochechah," meaning "The Rebuke." Mildly put, it's the "Hey, dummies, listen up!!" portion of the Biblical narrative. The Torah isn't pulling any punches here. God begins by saying "if you do NOT obey Me and do NOT observe these commandments..." and then goes on to 

list punishments we can expect. And yeah, you guessed it, we're living through soooooo many of them right now. We can't ignore this any longer. The very first repercussion for misbehavior listed is, "then I will do this to you: I will visit you with panic, with wasting disease and fever that consume the eyes and make the heart ache" (Lev. 26:16). A little on-the-nose, wouldn't you say?? I'm almost surprised Leviticus didn't just come out and say: "I'm referring, of course, to the coronavirus in the year 2020." If that didn't hit close enough to home for you, verse 19 states that "[God] will break down your stubborn pride and make your sky like iron and your land like bronze." So we've got the infuriatingly misguided stubbornness of the conspiracy theorists, AND we've got the sky refusing to yield rain, causing drought... check, as well as the ground encased in a concrete-like substance (bronze) that causes destruction... check.

PEOPLE!! We have to see this. We have to look squarely at all these things. They are terrifying, yes. But this is not "someone else's" problem, and it's not a "sometime down the road" problem. It's right here, right now, right in front of our mask-covered-faces! Verse 22 mentions 

wild animals destroying our planet - murder hornets, anyone?? And just to REALLY gild the lily (but with fear...), verse 25 adds, "and if you withdraw into your cities, I will send pestilence among you," which sounds unsettlingly like quarantine and stay-at-home orders. But here's the most important thing I want to emphasize: Our Torah portion restates FOUR TIMES, that all these things will happen - and continue to happen - if we refuse to listen, reject the tough remedies, insist on making excuses, and scoff at the data. None of this is going to be easy. This is painful for EVERYONE. But turning a blind eye to the realities (and the facts) in front of us is making things infinitely worse. Or, to borrow the parashah's phrase: "sevenfold" worse...

Do I have answers? No, I do not. But I'm ready to face the excruciating, tragic, life-altering truths that are so obviously playing out before our eyes. I'd offer to hold your hand to comfort you... but we both know I can't get closer than six feet, and not without a face mask or gloves! Again, I don't have the solution. But let's stop 

talking about "returning to normal" or "getting back to the way things were." We need to reevaluate what it means for some (often mistreated) members of society to be called "essential workers." If they're essential to us, shouldn't they be valued better??? We have to reexamine our treatment of the earth, our use of cars, planes, and fossil fuels, and so very many things that used to be commonplace and utterly taken for granted. It must end here; it has to stop now. HOWEVER, despite all the horrific things we read in the Tochechah (Rebuke), the Torah is actually still NOT saying it's inevitable, unavoidable, or irreversible. We are not powerless. But God isn't going to change. The hornets won't turn around; the earth being suffocated by concrete can't speak up for itself; and this virus doesn't care about its toll on our economy. WE need to change. WE need to stop ignoring the deafening sound of alarm bells, which, by the way, is getting louder and louder... 

I told you this wasn't gonna be a "fun" blog post. It gives me no pleasure to say any of this, and I don't feel all that excited or mighty, positioning myself as a prophetic voice. But we need to listen. I do too. Because this already hurts... a lot. Let's get rid of the "stubborn pride" at least, and then take it one step at a time from there...

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:

1. seton.com

2. wallpaperflare.com

3. Andrea Piacquadio on pexels.com

4. pikist.com

Va-Yikra: Sorry About All This...

It had been my hope and intention to be fully back up and running with my blog posts by now. I mean, I know there's a worldwide pandemic out there, and the eye of this proverbial storm very recently moved across the Atlantic to our shores, but still... I was hoping to my "normal" routines back online, and it's taking me longer to get there. Sorry. I am, however, quite pleased that we've been able to get an active Facebook Community Board up and running, and that we've held a whole host of online prayer services, learning opportunities, sing-along's, and story time for kids! Which, of course, also explains why the blog isn't back to normal speed just yet. Again, sorry.

I offer these apologies, in part for you - my loyal and dedicated readers - but also in part for myself. In this strange, unfamiliar, topsy-turvy world, any opportunities to maintain normal routines is quite welcome. This post isn't going to be up to my usual standards; lacking, among other things, pictures that help tell a story. But nevertheless, I wanted to push myself to write SOMETHING about our parashah, and hopefully I'll be even MORE prepared for next Shabbat! Ok, so here goes:

This week, we launch into the third book of the Torah, Leviticus. And with it come a myriad of laws, rules, strictures, prohibitions, guidelines, blueprints, measurements, design descriptions, and other how-to's to keep the Ancient Temple running smoothly. One thing that jumped out at me from our text this week, reflects one of the main "reasons" for Temple worship. We might ask the question: What did sacrifice DO for our ancient ancestors??? Well, some of the sacrifices were about thanksgiving for good times, hope for uncertain times, and tribute for mandated-celebration-times. But perhaps more than almost all other purposes, sacrifice was established to ask forgiveness. Throughout our Torah portion specifically, the text describes guilt offerings, sin offerings, offerings for unintentional and accidental transgressions, and even differentiates between offerings in response to individual mistakes versus communal ones. Why so sorry all the time???

And this is what jumped out at me for us to think about this week. Do we truly know WHEN to apologize, HOW to apologize, to WHOM we even need to offer our apology, and what it means to be sorry and repentant?? As we all worry about the spread of this horrific pandemic, we often hear people in the media search for "scapegoats": Who is to blame for all of this? But right now, it's honestly not a particularly relevant question. Collectively, we need to acknowledge our failings around caring for the sick, the elderly, and the poor in our country. We need to put aside our bickering, and instead demonstrate humility and concern for one another. And we need to think long and hard about how we've been taking our planet, our environment, and the amenities in our lives for granted, and how ALL THAT has to change. In short, we need a lot less blaming and bluster, and a lot more "sorry." The Torah goes out of its way to even emphasize UNINTENTIONAL transgressions, or ones where leaders need to take responsibility for the wrongdoing of others. The Torah is trying to model behavior for us, which we especially need when it isn't being modeled for us elsewhere.

Sacrifice - whether we want it or not - is once again going to become a word, and a concept we need to grapple with. And if we can also internalize the concept of "sorry," along with humility, contrition, and change, this is all going to become a lot more manageable. Sorry for harping on about this so long...

Pekudei: The Slurs are Back... So Now What?

This is uncomfortable to say... but let's talk a little about Jews and money. Lately in the news, there have been several stories about anti-Semitic tropes, often involving Jews, money, and power, as well as the infamous (and indefatigable) accusation of dual loyalty. For most people, our gut reaction is to say

"NO! You can't say such things!! That's anti-Semitic, it's racist - BE QUIET!!" We simply want it to stop. Here's the problem: The stereotype, the slur, the accusation; it doesn't go away. It festers... only now it's ever-so-slightly below the surface and hidden from view. So what if we resisted that visceral instinct to silence hate and bigotry and misinformation? Is there a way to confront it and have an open dialogue... one that doesn't ALSO lend credence or legitimacy to views we find abhorrent? I don't know if there is. But I also know that displays of unity, force, and condemnation are NOT eradicating hate and ignorance. They're just masking the problem. What if we took a different approach?

Our parashah doesn't deal with anti-Semitism or hate speech. However, it DOES brush up against that first cliché I mentioned; the dreaded linking together of Jews and money. For the umpteenth time in this same part of the Torah, the text
describes the materials, methods, and funding of the Tabernacle in the desert. Why do we need to hear about this over and over again? What does OUR specific reading add to the narrative? For one thing, it's Moses opening up his books and showing the transparency of his accounting. The commentary in the Etz Hayim Chumash explains: "Why did Moses feel obliged to give this detailed account? Some Israelites knew that they would have taken advantage of handling all that gold and silver for their own enrichment. They suspected Moses of being no better than they were." (p. 564) Moses wants the people to know he's trustworthy and honest. Maybe he doesn't even know it, but he's already battling a vicious stereotype...

The text goes out of its way to insist Moses was not acting according to his own plans. Everything was decreed by God; everything followed God's Plan. The text, in fact, reiterates this constantly. From Exodus 38:22 to 40:32, in just 86 verses, the Torah repeats the phrase "Ka'asher Tzivah Adonai" - "... as Adonai had commanded" - NINETEEN times! The Torah wants
to make it *abundantly* clear that Moses is not advancing his own interest here; he's carrying out the Will of God and working on behalf of the community. Fast forward a few thousand years, this all-too-familiar slur just will NOT stop hounding us. When I hear these accusations resurfacing again and again, I feel many mixed emotions. On the one hand, it's like nails on a chalk board - the same, old criticisms of pro-Israel lobbies, wealthy Jewish donors, and dual loyalties that allegedly undermine America's ability to trust us. On the other hand, maybe we need to take a step back. WHY won't these tropes go away? Why do they constantly return, despite being shouted down repeatedly, over the course of centuries and even millenia? Something has to change.

I don't know that our detractors are interested in a dialogue. I hope they are. Because this country is made up of a myriad different groups and ethnicities, all with loyalties to family, community, country, religion, and more. These same recriminations have been launched against us since Pharaoh in the beginning of

Exodus (1:10), and more recently against other minorities like Japanese-Americans in World War Two and Muslim-Americans after 9/11. Furthermore, our Torah portion this week demonstrates how long we've been fending off accusations surrounding Jews and money. It never ends, and perhaps it never will. What I do know is that shouting down our accusers hasn't worked; the slurs keep coming. In fact, the more we shout, the more they feel justified in claiming we wield our power to censor any and all opposition. Maybe it's time to try something else? Do the critics really KNOW our story? What we've endured and overcome? And do we do enough to support others, and to stand up against THEIR attackers?? I don't know the answers, but I'm also tired of going around in circles and getting nowhere. Isn't it time we find a new way to respond?


Images in this blog post:
1. CC image courtesy of muzina_shanghai on Flickr
2. CC image courtesy of Sony Dslr-A350 on Max Pixel
3. CC image courtesy of Sharon Drummond on Flickr
4. CC image courtesy of Wikipedia

Va-Yeira: A Most Terrifying Conversation Before Halloween

We’re back, baby! Our latest trip to Israel has concluded, and all 38 of us have returned stateside (more or less). It was an absolutely fabulous experience, and while I’m tempted to talk endlessly about our travels here, I’m not going to do so. Instead, I invite you to read our trip blog, dedicated specifically to everything we did in Israel. You can find it at: NomadicOhevites.blogspot.com Furthermore, in a couple of days I am going to post my synagogue newsletter article for November, where I ALSO talk about my feelings on traveling to Israel, so I don't feel a need to harp on the subject here. Instead, let's look at the Torah portion and an important upcoming program at Ohev.

I've often written about on the blog, and discussed in sermons, different ways that one can read our Biblical texts. If you pick a theme - say who names whom in the text;
when does water appear and why; when are women present or absent, etc. - and read the text with a singular focus on THAT theme, you see new and interesting phenomena rise to the surface of the text. One such device is death. How is death treated in the text? When does the Torah seem urgently concerned about someone committing a murder, and when is life treated with shocking disregard? What do we make of the Biblical allusions to an afterlife, e.g. Sheol? And perhaps more interestingly, what are we to do with the Torah's frequent (and glaring) LACK of interest in explaining to the reader what happens after we die? Our parashah this week gives us an excellent opportunity to employ this device... and feel utterly bewildered.

The Torah portion of Va-Yeira includes the infamous story of the Binding of Isaac, where God tells Abraham to sacrifice his son as a sign of his true and complete devotion to the Divine. Abraham doesn't even flinch,
but sets about preparing to commit the heinous act. At the last second, an angel stops Abraham from going through with it, and the text insists that we have our happy ending; Abraham passed the test, no one was harmed, and we should all be inspired when we read this story of flawless faith. And yet, we feel terrible. Along with perhaps EVERYONE in this story, we too are shocked, traumatized, and left questioning what the hell religion is trying to pull here anyway?!?! Most of the time, our distress is directed at the concept of blind faith, the purpose of such atrocious tests, and the cruelty towards parent(s) and child alike. But let's set all that aside for a minute. Let's put on our "special" glasses, and view our story through the lens of considering how the text treats death. You ready?

Not long before our story, God allowed Abraham to talk God out of killing the people of Sodom and Gomorrah IF some righteous individuals could be found in these settlements. Abraham was adamant and indignant; doesn't innocent life matter???

So context makes our chapter even MORE disturbing. Is the Torah trying to tell us that a mass of lives matter, but a single life does not? Whether it's an innocent child or a modern-day journalist? How can we understand the Torah's portrayal of God as asking the unimaginable of Abraham, and neither of them seemingly even ACKNOWLEDGING what an impossible price Abraham is being asked to pay? For me, the answer is simple: We can't. We cannot justify this, we cannot defend this, and I am honestly not even sure the text wants us to. It is trying to push us and provoke us. I believe, wholeheartedly, that the real question - for BOTH our ancient ancestors and for us today - is how we handle the topic of death in our society.

Which leads me to encourage your attendance at our second installment of a program we're calling Death Cafe. Rabbi Miller and I didn't coin the term; Death Cafes are organized all across the globe. And yet, most people today are still uncomfortable with, and HIGHLY reluctant to confront, death.

In part, I would say, it's because we only ever encounter death at funerals and shiva houses, so it's always gut-wrenching, tragic, and filled with wailing. But what if, instead, we came together on a Monday evening (October 29th), with refreshments, fancy table cloths, and a relaxed atmosphere (and possibly Steve Smith's Halloween-themed table decorations...)? No, it's not coincidental that it's being held at the end of October; I think the only other way we seem to handle death is with horror and trick-or-treating, and that isn't healthy either! We CAN talk about this subject in a different way, and I would argue that we NEED to do this. Our tradition is actually FILLED with interesting stories of "good" and... "less-good" deaths, and we want to look at all of them with you. Death is really just another part of life, though I of course understand why it's so hard for many of us to face. And yet, we need to face it and learn to grapple with it. So come join our Death Cafe, and maybe by the time you leave, death won't seem quite so scaaaaaaaary!!

Images in this blog post:
1. CC image courtesy of B Rosen on Flickr
2. CC image courtesy of Hans on Pixabay
3. CC image courtesy of Wikipedia
4. CC image courtesy of pxhere

High Holidays 5779 - Yom Kippur Intro to the Torah Reading

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

YK Torah Intro 5779

Shanah Tovah!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Comforting Haftarah #5 (and also #3... sort of): Do NOT Ignore the "IF"!

Do you know what feels really great? Knowing you have God on your side. What better feeling could there be? You're invincible! God is unequivocally, unwaveringly,

unfailingly on your team. You know, it almost - almost - makes you think you could do absolutely anything, even the most reprehensible acts, and God would forgive it all. Hey, just look at what Isaiah says in (the first half of...) this week's Haftarah: "'My loyalty shall never move from you, nor My covenant of peace be shaken,' says Adonai, who has compassion on you." (54:10) It seems so comprehensive, so impenetrable... you ALMOST couldn't blame a person - someone who saw him/herself as a loyal and faithful adherent - for getting drunk on this power, for justifying every abhorrent behavior by saying "God loves me, and that will never change." Almost...

I'm really struggling right now, to be totally honest with you. As a clergy member, a pastoral leader who receives people in my office, often people who are grieving,
vulnerable, and some who are innocent and naive pre-teens, the newspaper headlines cut me so incredibly deeply. I have been reading the stories of Catholic priests abusing their positions and abusing children, and the church allowing it and/or enabling it to continue, with much the same horror as I'm sure you have. But I also think I feel that pain somewhat differently, because I have the same kind of title, and am given that same level of trust. I have an office with a door that COULD close, and I both cannot fathom AND cannot stop thinking about how others with these same privileges turned them into instruments of terror. As a faith leader, I am struggling. Something is very, VERY wrong in our system, and some sort of major, sweeping change is really needed to cleanse us of this scourge.

I know that last sentence sounds kind of dramatic, but we cannot take this lightly. We are all injured by the abuse of these children. This is about more than celibacy, and we, as a society, need to reexamine our attitudes around sex-standards and expectations for men/boys and women/girls,

slut-shaming in our culture, victim blaming, and perhaps even societal assumptions that monogamy is right for everyone, with one other person, for an entire lifetime. These atrocious stories point to a wide-spread disease - THAT is the crucial message underneath all of this, and we simply cannot afford to miss it. The same is true of our Haftarah. There's a surface-level teaching, and a vital, glaring instruction running just below the text. On top, the words are saying that God is behind us 1,000%... but we all ignore an important word at our own peril: IF!! If you obey the laws, if you are kind and compassionate, if you are a crusader for justice, equality, and mercy, and IF you care about others as much as you do your own security, safety, and wealth - THEN you get God's protection. But only IF. Only, only, only "IF"...

You see, that same text - our Haftarah - also references the flood of Noah. It says God won't flood the earth again, wipe the slate clean of our sins. But Isaiah goes on
to say that all of this is true IF we "give heed," "incline the ear," and "hearken" to God (55:2-3). When we mistreat our neighbors and abuse the innocent, no amount of fake-holiness, well-constructed sermon, or charitable giving can save you from God's purifying floods... When we rest on our laurels and assume God's favor, we get in trouble. No one should be resting, and no one should be assuming. We have work to be done. We have to examine our society, and examine our values that spawn this level of evil and allow it to fester. We are in Elul, a month devoted to reflection, and it leads straight into the High Holidays. We've got a lot of soul-searching to do. This plague is hurting all of us, and hurting us to our very core. Let's get to work.

CC images in this blog post:
1. Courtesy of Chan Walrus on Pexels.com
2. Courtesy of Will Folsom on Flickr
3. Courtesy of SmilingHarrySyphilis on DeviantArt.com
4. Courtesy of Dallas_Foodie on Flickr

Haftarat Be-ha'alotecha: Light It Up!

Our Torah portion and our Haftarah focus on very different subjects. The weekly reading talks about the final items constructed in the Tabernacle, then offers stories

of the Israelites marching through the desert, and sprinkles in some sibling rivalry between Miriam, Aaron, and Moses. The Haftarah was composed under Persian rule, when the prophet Zechariah tried to convince the people to rebuild the destroyed Temple in Jerusalem. He offered a vision of a glorious future, with the Israelite people resettled in their homeland. So what links these two texts together? Well, they both talk about a particular ritual object. The Torah describes its practical, ceremonial use, while the Haftarah employs it as a symbol of future, messianic salvation. Any guesses on which item they both discuss?? I'll give you a hint: It has seven arms and supports the oil industry...

We are indeed talking about the Menorah; the famous candelabra that has been a symbol of Judaism for A LOT longer than the Star of David. And though it's a well-known and oft-depicted part of the Temple rite, it's actually not so clear what it was FOR in the ancient sacrificial cult. I mean, if you think about it,

you need objects to hold or employ sacrifices, incense, pure water, and even blood... but what does the Menorah do? If the flame on the altar provided illumination, and most of the rituals took place outdoors, why did they need a fancy-shmancy candelabra??? When paired with our Haftarah, more information comes to light (pun intended...). An angel approaches Zechariah and shows him a seven-armed lampstand, which symbolizes God's Presence and God's future promises of redemption. Our Haftarah ends at chapter 4, verse 7, but just three verses later, the angel tells Zechariah: "these seven are the eyes of the LORD, that run to and fro through the whole earth." The Menorah represented God's vigilance; able to see all, uncover and illuminate that which was hidden, and shine a light on injustice to allow truth and righteousness to prevail. In the Temple, the Menorah was a symbol of God!

I've been thinking a lot about this concept recently. Not so much the Menorah itself, but the importance of emulating God, and bringing to light that which needs to be seen, confronted, and exposed. Most of us agree with this concept in theory...

but when things get real, uncomfortable, raw, and vulnerable, the darkness of ignorance starts to seem pretty appealing... Just in the last few weeks, and even days, we've seen examples of racism unearthed, and vile, despicable sentiments aired in public. We even have openly anti-Semitic candidates running for public office, brazenly touting their affiliations with white supremacist groups. One reaction we might be inclined to feel - and which I've heard expressed - is, "They used to at least be ashamed of these views; how horrible that they're now flaunting their racism so openly!" But here's where I want to push back, and where I want to elevate our Menorah-mindset. We need to bring all of this to light. We need to hear it vented, so we can face these incendiary opinions head-on.

Ask yourself this: Were we really better off when these views were silent? When it was murmured in backrooms, seethingly felt with indescribable vitriol... but hey, at least they smiled at us in public, right? No way. If the xenophobia, racism, homophobia, and anti-Semitism is out there, we are better off understanding it, confronting it, and exposing it for the hatefulness that it is.

It must be highLIGHTed, because it WILL thrive in the darkness. Looking back, for a moment, at our two texts this week, perhaps the Menorah functions as both - the tool AND the symbol. We must wield openness, transparency, and honesty as implements in a battle against hate and ignorance. It can be our proactive vehicle, where we confront and call out racism whenever we see it. At the same time, our Menorah is a symbol. It reminds us to shed light and insight, and challenges us to be better, to DO better. The lampstand reminds us of God's Presence, and also the importance of our own presence. Like our ancestors, we sometimes fall short and commit offenses. We mess up. But when we can push ourselves to truly SEE wrongdoing, in us and in others, and bring all of it to light, then REAL, lasting change is genuinely possible.


Images in this blogpost:
1. CC image courtesy of Personal Creations on Flickr
2. CC image courtesy of Ariely on Wikimedia Commons
3. CC image courtesy of DSC-RX100M4 on pxhere
4. CC image courtesy of Marco Sanchez on Flickr

Vayikra: Why God Needs a Perfect Seder

Every so often, I get questions from congregants (and others) that basically amount to, "Why does God need x?" The context of each is unique, the holiday/
commandment/ritual/ethic affected is different, but the underlying curiosity is the same. I would rephrase what they're all asking me as, "If God is omnipotent, omnipresent, and good... why does God need something from us??" Just last week, an Ohev member asked why God needed the Israelites to paint their doorposts with blood, just before the firstborn Egyptians were killed in the tenth plague; doesn't God know who lives where?? A fair question indeed.

A similar query could be asked regarding this week's Torah portion. Vayikra (the Torah portion AND the third Book of the Torah) begins with a description of 

various sacrificial rituals. With every type of offering, an emphasis is placed on perfection. Animals must be "without blemish" (Lev. 1:3, 1:10, 3:1, 3:6) and grain/produce must be "the finest" available (2:1, 4, 5, 7, 12). I mean, everyone knows that God loves fancy things, right?!? What kind of an offering would it be, if your banana had a brown spot on it?? Is this a hobo-god we're dealing with?!?!? I don't think so!! God requires "the good stuff." God needs stuff to be pretty and perfect. OBVIOUSLY! (I hope my excessive use of exclamation points and question marks has made it clear that I'm being sarcastic. God doesn't want any of that silliness.)

But if God DOESN'T need perfection, and if God doesn't need our doorpost markers, then why are they listed as such in the Torah? Why do we regularly see God asking for things, gifts, gestures, and responses that an 

omnipotent Deity couldn't possibly NEED? So here's my answer to all these questions: It isn't about God. It's about us. No, I don't think God needs this "stuff." But WE need it. We need to be active partners in this covenant, this Jewish enterprise, for it to really mean something. If God does everything for us - if God just folded some arms and blinked some eyes and all the slaves magically found themselves settled in the Promised Land, with no plagues, no Exodus, no struggle - would we even really care? This is kind of a basic rule of human existence, right? If someone hands you a $100 bill, and you work your tail off to earn a different $100 bill; will they really be of equal value to you? We all know the answer.

This Sunday, April 2nd, Ohev is running a program called "How to Host a Seder." Hebrew School families are invited at 9:00 a.m. and the whole congregation at 10:40 a.m., to learn tips, suggestions, recipes, and (hopefully) interesting material about how to run a Seder. And I'm mentioning this here, because this too is about 

OWNING Jewish ritual. You can run a 5-minute Seder and call it a day, OR you could go a step or two further and make it a meaningful and spiritual experience. Not because God needs your super-Seder, but because you do. We get more out of experiences when we first put more INTO them. Offering a perfect specimen, rather than the shriveled one you were going to toss in the trash anyway, makes the sacrifice more special and precious. I promise that on Sunday we won't review animal sacrifice rules or smear blood on door posts; that might be taking it a smidge too far... But we WILL be talking about how to make the Seder more meaningful AND fun. Again, not for God's benefit. God's doing just fine. This is for our sake, because the Seder has much to teach us, IF we're willing to learn. As we say in the Haggadah, the Seder night IS different from all other nights; let's work together to figure out just how unique and special it can be.

Photos in this blog post:

1. CC image courtesy of Internet Archive Book Images on Wikimedia Commons

2. CC image of a (appropriately named) "Pink Perfection" flower, courtesy of Chamaeleon~commonswiki on Wikimedia Commons
3. CC image from "I Dream of Jeannie," courtesy of SreeBot on Wikimedia Commons
4. CC image courtesy of Arthuc01 on Wikimedia Commons

Va-Eira: Caught Outside in a Hailstorm

As you can probably imagine, one of the main questions I get, as a rabbi, is about God. It's often a variation on the themes of where God is, what God is like, why do bad things happen to good people, or why doesn't God speak to us anymore? 

Just between you and me, I don't have a lot of answers to these questions. I think about them a lot myself, to be sure, but I certainly don't know THE solutions to some of humanity's greatest dilemmas. But do we really have NO sense of what God wants of us? Is it fair to say that we are totally on our own, and that God isn't speaking to us in ANY way? In reality, I think we overload our senses with work, social media, terrifying news headlines, and pretty much ANYTHING we can find, just so we don't have to listen for the still, small voice inside all of us that actually DOES know more than we'd like to admit.

I'll tell you why this came to mind this week. Our Torah portion is Va-eira, and it's the second parashah in the Book of Exodus. Moses has confronted Pharaoh about letting the Israelite slaves go free, Pharaoh has stubbornly refused, and the plagues have begun. In fact, seven of the ten plagues rain down on Egypt in our Torah reading. The seventh 

one is fiery hail that destroys land and kills cattle and people. The Torah introduces this calamity by having Moses tell Pharaoh: "order your livestock and everything you have in the open brought under shelter; every man and beast that is found outside, not having been brought indoors, shall perish when the hail comes down upon them!" (Ex. 9:19) So what do you think happened? Sure enough - "Throughout the land of Egypt, the hail struck down all that were in the open, both man and beast" (9:25). I find myself asking, who were these fools who stayed out in the open, leaving themselves vulnerable to lethal weather storms??

Remember again, this is the SEVENTH plague!! Clearly God has already demonstrated, unequivocally, the ability and intention to afflict Egypt with plagues. How is it even possible that by plague #7, there are still skeptics and doubters??? It's almost comical! And yet, of course there are. In every generation, 

and in every situation, there are always going to be people who simply REFUSE to accept facts, or who insist that they are right, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Today we deal with climate change deniers, gun rights activists, and people who are convinced that we've "solved" racism in America. Like the Egyptians who insisted on taking a stroll outside when the hail began to fall, many people today are too invested in the status quo. Even when the system is wholly broken and change MUST come, the prospect of giving up on long-held beliefs is simply too scary. 

We prefer to look to heaven, and ask why God hasn't "fixed" hunger, poverty, racism, and intolerance. It's easier, really. The harder truth to face is that we have all the food we need on this planet, we just don't care to allocate it better. We CAN work on all the problems that 

plague our society today, but it takes effort, sacrifice, discomfort, and probably a fair amount of pain and loss. But let's not be ancient Egyptians about this. Slavery was deeply entrenched in their society, and it was probably unfathomable to let ALL the slaves go free. But that doesn't make it ok to keep them. When we read the famous story of the Exodus, we all like to think of ourselves as the Israelites. Let's first be sure that we're not actually the oppressors, and let's be a little more vigilant to the stubborn tendencies that are tough to discard. Being an Israelite isn't a God-given right; it's a choice, and one that we must constantly be making again and again if we are to be truly free.

Photos in this blog post:

1. CC image courtesy of FishInWater onWikimedia Commons

2. CC image of hailstones from a Brisbane, Australia hailstorm courtesy of Craig Franklin on Wikimedia Commons

3. CC image courtesy of Matt Brown on Wikimedia Commons

4. CC image, "Slave beating in Egypt," courtesy of Artuller on Wikimedia Commons