Rabbi Sabath on the Sabbath

Who Are We? Defining Ourselves by Our Actions
Shmini (Leviticus 9:1-11:47)

So much of what defines us as human beings is not only how we describe ourselves with words, but how we act. To a great extent, we define ourselves by what we do and what we don’t do. Where are our boundaries? When are lines crossed that force us to respond? How do we maintain our own sense of who we are, especially in a world where it is constantly challenged? 

Being Jewish, since the time of the Torah, has been about defining who we are by being aware of our boundaries of behavior. Lots of Jewish texts focus on the ways we should act - and should not act - in the world. Beginning with the Ten Commandments, our behavior defines us as good ethical humans. In other words, we are what we do and what we don’t do. 

Being ethical and true to Judaism can be described in the negative or in the positive. For example, this week’s Torah portion, Shmini, includes many of the laws about keeping Kosher. Part of Jewish practice for millennia can be framed by what we don’t eat in order to stay healthy and pure. Today, this section of the Torah might be viewed as an ancient version of our current wellness and longevity cultures. It seems that most of us are following similar guidelines about what one should and shouldn’t eat in order to stay as healthy as possible. In other words, we too focus on what we should eat to be the kind of people and live the kind of lives we value. 

The Torah portion also includes a disturbing scene of how Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, acted without concern for their own safety and that of their community by offering “a strange fire” in the holiest place at the wrong time and in the wrong way. They ended up dead. They crossed sacred boundaries of behavior, both in violating holy space and behavior. 

It’s a puzzling moment. Did they do this as part of an attempted coup? Was it well-intentioned but based on faulty intelligence? All we know from the text is that because of the seriousness of their crime and the cruelty of the situation, they were killed. Aaron, their father, is silent. As we will learn in the coming weeks, like anyone grieving the untimely loss of a loved one, he must nevertheless find a way to carry on. 

The questions the situation raises hang heavily in the air for the rest of the Book. Was it necessary for them to be killed? Did they do something so horrific that their lives must be sacrificed? Couldn’t they just have been fined? Or exiled from the priesthood, or even the people? And what of the responsibility of their father? Did Aaron fail to make the boundaries and the consequences for crossing them clear enough? 

This evening I’ll speak about the ways in which the present - and very complicated - reality for Israel and for the Jewish people raises similar questions. What are the boundaries of behavior in our time that must not be crossed? How do we respond when they are violated? What are we willing to sacrifice or endanger to protect our borders? Our boundaries? What do we risk when we remain silent? How should we act to protect our community? Our People? Who and what are we willing to sacrifice? What kind of people are we? 

Our willingness to ask these hard questions - and of course how we respond to them - will define not only what kind of people we strive to be, but it will define what we want our community, Israel, and the Jewish People to be in the future. I pray we are up to the task.

What Kind of Jew Are You? Purim, Passover, and the Urgent Question of this Moment.
Vayikra (Leviticus 1:1-5:26)

Every year at this time of year — and especially this year — I find myself deep in a debate. It’s a debate I first had with colleague and friend, the well-known writer Yossi Klein Halevi. Along with many other Jewish thinkers, Yossi insisted that there are two kinds of Jews: The ‘Purim Jew’ and the ‘Passover Jew’. As many of you know, I thought it was clear that I am primarily a Pesah (Passover) Jew. But since October 7th I’m not so sure. 

The distinction between the Purim Jew vs. the Passover Jew is, of course, not based on a preference for hamentashen over matzah, or the spiel over the haggadah, but rather on what each holiday emphasizes about who we are. Which kind of Jew you are is determined by how you see yourself and how you understand Jewish history. 

I argue against such an either/or assertion for two main reasons. The first one is that I instinctively reject such false dichotomies. Very rarely can anything so complex be reduced to an either/or. The second reason I rejected such an approach is that I was quite sure that he was a Purim Jew, and that I was, at my core, a Passover Jew. 

But before I share my changing perspective, let’s first remind ourselves what each kind of Jewish stance involves. According to this theory, Jewish history speaks to our generation in the voice of two very distinct commandments “to remember.” This is the name of this special Shabbat just before Purim: Shabbat Zakhor — or the ‘Shabbat of Remembering’.

The first voice commands us to remember that we were strangers in the land of Egypt, and the message of that experience is: Don’t be brutal. 

The second voice commands us to remember how the tribe of Amalek attacked the ancient Israelites without provocation while we were wandering in the desert. The message of that experience is: Don’t be naive.

The first command is the voice of Passover, of liberation; the second is the voice of Purim, commemorating our victory over the genocidal threat of Haman, a descendant of Amalek.

“Passover Jews” are motivated by empathy with the oppressed; “Purim Jews” are motivated by alertness to threat. 

Yes, the unfathomable horrors of October 7th, the unending plight of the hostages, the ongoing and brutal war Israel must fight, the suffering of thousands of innocent people, and the awakening of a new era of worldwide antisemitism constitute a new era. There is no doubt that I, like many of you, when faced with an unprecedented new reality, are thinking differently about the world and our place in it. Even with enormous Israeli military might, vast economic and political power, and the ‘best’ counter-terrorism intelligence, we were, apparently, nonetheless too naive about all the threats we were actually facing. Purim insists that we not be naive about the existential threats we face. 

So this year, while celebrating Purim and Passover will be challenging, I think the perspective they give us is even more important. We need them both, especially now because they allow us to see the world through many different lenses. Each holiday also invites us to take the long view of history — even from within a crucible, and especially from within the crucible that we find ourselves in at the moment.  

Even now, however, I want to remind us of the overarching view of these two holidays: “Both are essential; one without the other creates an unbalanced Jewish personality, a distortion of Jewish history and values.”

In other words, we hold the messages of both close to our hearts. “The goal,” writes Yossi, “is to create multidimensional Jews.” 

Today, I think this is more important than ever. We must be sure that we hold the widest possible range of perspectives in mind; we must be capable of holding more than one truth about who we need to be here and now. This is hardly a prescription for the battlefield or for hostage negotiation or for arguing a case at the ICJ or the SCOTUS. Rather, this is a perspective I can recommend for the rest of us for the long haul because it is based on Jewish values. 

If we insist that only one viewpoint on the entire meaning of Jewish existence is possible and that we have the monopoly on truth and that any other perspective is absolutely false, then we will be trapped forever in a false dichotomy. We will also have no way to communicate with each other, much less will we be able to find a new way out of this new kind of ‘Egypt’ we are in, or to protect ourselves against whatever kind of ‘Hamans’ may rise to destroy us. 

I am also convinced that there is great wisdom in the rhythms of the Jewish calendar that are essential for us right now. Purim comes first so that we can purge from ourselves the understandable human desire to utterly destroy and annihilate whoever we perceive to be the enemy — no matter the cost. We must not be naive and, at the same time, we must not become brutal. 

Thankfully, Passover will soon be upon us with its very different message. At the Seder table we will declare “all who are hungry — come and eat.” We will reread and re-enact our story of knowing the suffering of oppression and experiencing the universal right to be free and to live with the dignity of self-determination. May it remind us never to squander our hard won modern day freedom. 

May this Passover see the redemption of our present/day hostages, and may all suffering come to an end. Let our celebrations inspire us to create a future in which we all can thrive.

The Opportunity of Uncertainty
Ki Tisa (Exodus 30:11-34:35)

Have you ever heard someone correct you when you refer to some difficult situation as a “problem” or a “crisis”? Instead of seeing a difficult situation as a problem to be solved or a challenge to overcome, some well-meaning advisor (or someone less concerned or more optimistic than you) encourages you to see the situation as an “opportunity.”

But in the midst of a crisis and enormous uncertainty, it’s often very hard to see the opportunity. We are definitely living in such a situation today. It might be reassuring to remember in such times that we Jews are experts in navigating crisis and uncertainty. I’m not saying that we always did such a good job in moments of crisis and uncertainty, we have definitely made many mistakes over the years. Yet, the Jewish people, as reflected in our texts and testimonies, have done our best to make sure that we learned from such situations so that future generations might handle crisis and uncertainty better.

For example, in this week’s Torah portion, Ki Tisa, after a long trek through the desert, the Israelites finally reach Mt. Sinai only to find themselves in crisis. Moses disappears for a long time and they are terrified. They likely felt abandoned and terrified about the future. They didn’t know where to turn or what to do.

Among the questions that arise in the text are: Are they really able to trust their leaders? Can they really leave idolatry and polytheism behind? Or will they forever be tempted by false gods and the lure of materialism? It’s a dangerous phase of profound struggle and self-discovery. Can they weather the absence of Moses and any signs that it’s all going to be alright?

So what did they do in that moment? They did everything that they were forbidden from doing. They built a golden calf and engaged in all the idolatry and other forbidden stuff. In other words, in their moment of crisis, they forget who they are and what their ultimate values and goals are – and they party like crazy. When God discovers what they’ve done, God is furious and ready to destroy them because, well, they’re clearly just not ready for the mission at hand and certainly don’t deserve to receive the Ten Commandments.

But just when it seems that the whole journey is going to end right there and then and the earth is about to open up and swallow them alive, God gives (most of) them a second chance to receive a new set of the Ten Commandments (after Moses smashed the first set). God still believes in us even when we fail to navigate the waters of crisis and uncertainty. God believes that we can learn from our mistakes. The opportunity to grow into the best people we can be is always a possibility.

One of the things that the Torah teaches us is that it takes time to understand what a crisis is meant to teach us.When we’re in the midst of a crisis, it’s natural to be paralyzed – at least for a while – by uncertainty. But with time and experience we can gradually learn new ways of thinking about ourselves and the new opportunities ahead of us. Only after we face our fears, re-group, and learn from our mistakes can we move forward.

Given the watershed moment reflected in this week’s Torah portion and the watershed moment of the multiple crises that face us right now as Americans and Jews, we should be sure not to miss the opportunity of this moment. We, too, have to decide how to navigate all the uncertainty of our time. We, too, have to be laser-focused on our mission and be true to our values as American Jews and as lovers of Israel.

Yes, we, too, have imperfect leaders and huge differences of opinion, just like the Israelites. And we, too, can learn from this week’s Torah portion not to give up even when we are afraid, and to stay true to who we are and resist giving in to the temptation of joining the masses and doing what’s easiest in the moment. In this moment we also have the opportunity to resist the lure of just carrying on with our lives and doing what’s easiest. We, too, can learn from the past so that we might better navigate these complex times and ensure that our Jewish future has a chance.

So we, like the ancient Israelites, must gather up our courage, support each other, and focus on our shared values so that we, too, can journey toward the Promised Land of the future, together.

Shabbat Shalom!

Justice for All Bodies: Reproductive Freedom is a Jewish Issue
Shabbat Mishpatim - 'Repro Shabbat'
Mishpatim (Exodus 21:1-24:18)

This Shabbat, when we read the Torah portion Mishpatim, has become known as “Repro Shabbat.” Since 2021, Repro Shabbat is an annual Shabbat celebration that honors the Jewish value of reproductive freedom. Together with the Reform Movement – including the Women of Reform Judaism (WRJ) and the Religious Action Center (RAC) – we join together with the National Council of Jewish Women (NCJW) and the larger Jewish Community in marking this Shabbat as a time to recommit ourselves to reproductive health and rights. 

Our Torah portion, Mishpatim, highlights the ways in which legal standards help protect the most vulnerable. Our Torah portion also gives expression to the understanding that human life begins only after birth, not at conception or at any time before birth. Causing a miscarage is not, according to the text, murder. Thus abortion cannot be considered murder. This view is part of our earliest legal text. The Torah portion contains these verses commonly referenced as the foundation of Judaism’s approach to reproductive health, rights, and justice. So on the Shabbat when we read these verses, individuals and communities across the world gather to celebrate Repro Shabbat and the Jewish traditions it honors. 

Sometimes people wonder how Judaism, a tradition that prioritizes life, could support abortion rights. The answer is that yes, Judaism prioritizes human life over all else. However, Jewish law does not consider an embryo or fetus to be human beings with rights. Only when the fetus fully emerges from the womb does it have human rights. Before then, the woman’s health and life take precedence. 

As the leaders of our Reform Movement and the NCJW proclaim: “Reproductive freedom is a Jewish value, and we’re going to celebrate it!”

In studying these sources, we learn that abortion is not only permitted in Jewish law, but it is required when the life of the pregnant person is in danger. Abortion is also an issue of Jewish values: Abortion bans deepen every structural inequality that exists and disproportionately harm those struggling financially, BIPOC individuals and communities, disabled people, young people, trans men and some nonbinary people, immigrants, and others. As our Torah portion teaches us, we are commanded to create a more just society; therefore, we must fight for abortion access for everyone. 

Our access to reproductive health care is guaranteed not only by the Fourteenth Amendment — the right to equality and privacy — but also by the First Amendment’s guarantee that no one religion or religious interpretation will be enshrined in law or regulation. We must not remain idle while barriers to health care place any individual’s health, well-being, autonomy, or economic security at risk. Learn more about the Reform Movement’s advocacy here. 

In ancient times and in our time, rabbinic leaders of all Jewish denominations agree that abortion is not wrong and that women should have agency over their own bodies. No governmental authority or rabbinic court can take away a woman's autonomy over her body and her right to an abortion.

As my friend, Professor Michal Raucher, of Rutgers University writes: “Unless you support a person’s right to bodily autonomy, then you are supporting a system wherein someone else determines what you or anyone else can do with their bodies. It does not matter whether that person is a lawmaker, a judge, a contemporary rabbi or one from 2,000 years ago. It does not matter whether that person would permit most abortions or even require some.” In other words, it’s a fundamental right to choose what happens to our bodies.

A religious argument based on Jewish law and rabbinic texts supports reproductive care and the fundamental rights of every person to receive medical care. As we read the Torah portion Mishpatim this Shabbat, let us recommit ourselves to advocating for laws and a society in which all are equal. 

As we mark this special Shabbat, please consider this special prayer:

A Prayer for Reproductive Freedom

May we always remember that each person is created in the image of the Sacred, endowed with the inherent right to autonomy and respect.

May we create a caring and loving community and nation that reveres this dignity in each of us. May we understand our obligations to one another; we are all inherently holy and should be treated as such.

May we find within ourselves the collective will to create a just society in which reproductive justice- the holy right to own the personhood of one's own body, to have or not have children, to raise any children in safety and community- is foundational.

May we endow each other with the strength, resolve, and courage we need as we walk together towards a liberatory world.

May we always follow the leadership of those most impacted by the harms of reproductive oppression. May we listen and learn.

May our country become a place of true liberty and justice for all. May our relationships with each other be ones of care and deep respect. May we walk together on the path of community as we work together to ensure truly accessible abortion care for all.

Amen.

May we be blessed to live in a world of equality and justice. 
Shabbat shalom!

What we Need Now: Clarity, Courage, and Vision
Shemot(Exodus 1:1-6:1)

This Shabbat is a new beginning! 

Not only are we beginning the new year of 2024, but we are also beginning a new journey through the Book of Exodus. Without a doubt, Exodus is the most important book of the Torah. Of course you might hear me say the same thing about every single book of the Torah and many other books, but it’s clear that without the story of the Book of Exodus, we would not know who we are or what our core values are. That “We were slaves in Egypt,” experienced redemption, received the Torah, and had the opportunity for self-determination are all essential to Jewish identity. Our experience ensures our sensitivity to suffering and our commitment to the values and possibilities of human freedom. 

The ancient dictum “May you live in interesting times” is definitely both a curse and a blessing. To say that we are living in interesting times is a huge understatement. We are living in an age filled with both curse and blessing. I don’t need to reiterate the curses because you hear about them all the time thanks to the unrelenting barrage of news that floods our screens — and which also floods our minds and affects our souls. What I must share, however, is the Jewish wisdom that reminds us of who we are, what our core values are, and that helps us clarify how we should act in such times. 

Given what’s happening in our world, I am in awe of the wisdom of what we can learn from the Book of Exodus at this particular moment. It reminds us how a time of profound crisis — the rise of “a Pharaoh who knew not Joseph” — the loss of Jewish power and influence and the experience of the first massive antisemitic assault on the Jewish People — also led to the most profound and eternal clarity about basic human rights, about our rights, and about who we can become. In fact, our experience of slavery and suffering is the crisis that ultimately allows for a new beginning in human history. 

Moments of collective or personal crisis can — if we are wise enough — help refine for us who we are and what we value. While the peace of mind we have in times of safety and success can allow for reflection and renewal, crisis and trauma are the crucibles that can force us into acting with greater clarity about who we are and what role we want to play in the world. That is the blessing of living in “interesting times.” Slavery was unspeakably horrific, but it also taught us about justice and equality, about the fundamental rights of religious freedom and self-determination. 

Even — or especially — in the midst of very stormy times such as these, we must focus on what the Israelites focused on throughout the Book of Exodus: the uniqueness of their culture, their covenantal commitments to God and to each other, and an unrelenting hope for a future in which they would create an ideal society in the Land of Israel. Our story is one in which any age offers us the possibilities of the blessings of clarity, the power of courage, and the opportunity to create something new and better for all of humanity. 

What we as individuals, as a congregation, and as the Jewish People, create out of the crises of our times will depend on the same things: our core Jewish identity, the clarity born of crisis, the power of courage, and a renewed vision for the future.

May we know these blessings and have the wisdom to act upon them.

Shabbat Shalom!

"We Each Must Banish Darkness and Bring Light"
Vayeshev (Genesis 37:1-40:23)

The chorus of one of my favorite Hanukkah songs, “We Each Must Banish Darkness and Bring Light,” seems especially powerful and strikingly relevant. Celebrating our Jewish identity and increasing the light in the world has never felt more urgent!

Especially on this Hanukkah, we are all called to: 

• Insist on making light even in the darkness;
• Celebrate how the Jewish people don’t just survive but thrive;
• Affirm our right to self-defense, religious freedom, and safety; and 
• Believe and act so that good will ultimately triumph over evil. 

Hanukkah literally means “dedication”, or re-dedication. Hanukkah celebrates not only the ancient triumph of the Maccabees and the miracle of the eight days of light, but it also affirms our ability to re-dedicate ourselves to the sacred tasks ahead of us, no matter how daunting.

May this Hanukkah remind us of the power of hope even in darkness and inspire us to rededicate ourselves to our people and to our congregation and to each other.  

As the Chief Rabbi of Israel and another rabbi wrote this week:“The light of the Hanukkah candles express the words of the entire nation. Light the candles of liberty and freedom, gather beacons to demonstrate the great light that the People of Israel inspire in the entire world.” 

With blessings for peace, for return of the hostages, and for more light in our world this Hanukkah.

P.S. I look forward to sharing more light from Israel during an upcoming Rabbinic solidarity Mission.

A Message of Gratitude on this Shabbat Thanksgiving:
Vayetzei (Genesis 28:10-32:3)

On this Shabbat Thanksgiving, I want to share a few of the things that I am especially thankful for:

As your Rabbi, I am deeply thankful to be part of and help lead our Har Sinai-Oheb Shalom Congregation. I am proud to be the Rabbi of a congregation so committed to each other, to Jewish celebrations, learning, prayer, spirituality, social action, and social justice. I am grateful for all the ways in which we work together in sacred partnership. With mutual commitment and mutual respect, we have created a community which lives its values. 

I am thankful for all of you! When you come to pray or learn, to seek counsel, plan your simchas, share your hearts in joy and in sorrow, pack food for the hungry, support Israel, host us in your homes, or shmooze at an Oneg Shabbat, each of you makes being your Rabbi the greatest privilege. I am so moved to see how you support each other, and stand together for what you believe is right. Every day in my private prayers of gratitude, I express gratitude to God and to all of you for the incredible privilege of dedicating my life to this congregation.

I am grateful for our leadership, especially Abby Hoffman, who works tirelessly to ensure that we are as strong and as mission-driven as we can be in every aspect of our congregation. Every single day I am thankful for an incredible professional team. Cantor Marcus is an incredibly dedicated and full clergy partner and member of our senior leadership team. Leading prayer with her is a constant source of spiritual fulfillment. I am also grateful for the dedicated work of Lee Sherman and our entire professional team. These people regularly go ‘above and beyond the call of duty’ to make our congregation everything that it is— a joyful and welcoming space for everyone who wants to engage in so many aspects of Jewish life.

I am in awe of how we are constantly striving toward being the congregation we say we are, including being “a congregation that advances our foundational value of repairing the world at home, in the Baltimore community, and far beyond our walls. We are committed to performing acts of loving-kindness, providing service to others, and advocating for justice and peace.” 

As an American Rabbi, I am thankful for the extent to which America has been a place where Jewish communities like ours can thrive. For more than 181 years, our congregation has been a place where American Jews in Baltimore can join together to celebrate Jewish values and holidays, where we engage in social action and social justice, and where we learn and grow together.  

As an American Jew, I am thankful that each of us can live as free and equal citizens. Despite current rising antisemitism, we must be thankful that we live in a society in which the government and its law enforcement agencies assure that we can freely practice our religion. 

As an American Jew, I am grateful to be part of a society where Jewish people have reached the highest levels of success and influence. I am grateful and confident that we can use our strength and power to ensure that current acts of violence and harassment against us will be prosecuted and we will work together with many allies to strengthen a society in which antisemitism —and racism of any kind— is not tolerated. 

As an American-Israeli, I am thankful for the gift of dual citizenship. I am grateful for a life in which I have been able to live the best parts of our dual cultures and raise a family that speaks Hebrew and English, that celebrates Thanksgiving and Yom HaAtzmaut, a family that values the best of American and Israeli cultures, that weeps with sorrow for all those who have fallen in defense of the democratic values of both nations. I am grateful for all that we receive and all that we can give.

In these trying times, I am deeply grateful for America’s partnership with Israel, the only Jewish-Democratic State and our Jewish homeland. American Jews have been able to be powerfully supportive of our Jewish-Democratic State of Israel since before Israel was founded in 1948 to today — when Israel’s needs for our American partnership are equally essential for our mutual survival. 

As a wife, mother, sister, friend, and human being, I am weeping tears of gratitude and relief as some of our hostages, vulnerable women and children, are being released. May we see more hostages released very soon. Among the prayers of gratitude we pray in every service, we also make petitions.  One of them is for the ‘release of the captive’, Matir Asurim. I have found this prayer to be especially powerful during these hours as we hold our collective breath and pray for more hostages to be released from the bondage of their captors.  No wonder we’ve kept the ancient daily blessing for God ‘who redeems the captive’ in our Amidah for thousands of years. I pray that the stories of all the hostages and all who have fallen — and our collective experience of this historical moment — will continue to inspire us to continue to pray for and to work even harder for the values of freedom and safety for our people, and for all people. 

On this Shabbat Thanksgiving, I pray that when we look back on this moment years from now, we will be thankful for all the opportunities we’ve had to make our world a better, safer place for all. Years from now, when we reflect on this era in the life of Har Sinai-Oheb Shalom, I pray that we will be proud of what we’ve been able to do as a congregation and as human beings. Let us be especially thankful on this Shabbat for all that we’ve received from the generations who’ve gone before us, and for the opportunities and freedom we have to help ensure that our people and our community continues to thrive for generations yet to come. 

Shabbat Shalom!

Our Jewish Peoplehood Test
Chayei Sara (Genesis 23:1-25:18)

Throughout our history, the Jewish People have faced many tests. In each case, our collective identity and solidarity are tested. Will we splinter into many factions or will we stand together, stronger in our solidarity? Obviously it’s not always black or white. Even in cases where there were profound disagreements about how to respond to an existential crisis, we survived and passed the test because of our overwhelming commitment to each other. Over the last 35 days of Israel’s war with Hamas, the Jewish People worldwide have demonstrated once again our massive and collective commitment to Israel and to each other in a wide variety of ways. So far, it seems we have passed the Jewish Peoplehood test once again. 

Given the disagreement among Jewish leaders over Israel’s various government policies since 1967 and more emphatically since 1982, many scholars — myself included — have wondered whether or not Israel as an issue for North American Jews was more unifying or more destructive. I wondered whether or not that impulse to respond “we are all responsible for one another” (Kol Yisrael arevin zeh ba-zeh) restated and re-enacted throughout Jewish history, would self-activate strongly enough in a crisis. 

Thank God, our muscle memory is strong and our commitment is deeper than ever. Across time and space, across political and religious differences, across cultural and ideological debates, we continue — for the most part — to stand together and we are once again passing the Jewish Peoplehood test. As scholar and friend, Dr. Yehuda Kurtzer, President of the Shalom Hartman Institute, put it recently, our Jewish peoplehood muscle is still strong. 

Here at Har Sinai-Oheb Shalom Congregation, our Jewish peoplehood muscles are in phenomenal shape! Within 48 hours of the Massacre of October 7th, we gathered as a congregation to share our concern and to learn and to demonstrate our solidarity, and you have continued to do so in many ways. We have also increased our awareness and actions to respond to shocking increases in antisemitism through North America and globally. 

As a congregation, we have raised significant funds for our sister community in Ashkelon, for the Israeli Red Cross, the Magen David Adom, for many different kinds of emergency needs on ground in the area around Gaza, for a community in the north struck by Hezbollah rockets, for the basic needs of the huge number of new orphans, for a generator for an unprotected community near the border, for Israel Bonds, and for many other emergency needs. 

Together with more than 50 volunteers from our congregation and seven other synagogues and organizations in Baltimore, Har Sinai-Oheb Shalom hosted the Empty Shabbat Table for the Hostages — #BringThemHomeNow —last Friday. Hundreds gathered in solidarity with the families of the hostages and in prayer and HaTikvah. The event was covered by at least five different news outlets. We have participated in other gatherings, rallies, vigils and so much more. 

While we cannot actively march into Gaza and save those innocent hostages or physically protect our people in Israel and throughout the world, we have proven to ourselves and to our people that our Jewish Peoplehood muscles are becoming even stronger every day. This coming Tuesday, we will be part of something historic. We will join thousands of our fellow Jews and allies in our nation's capital to protest antisemitism, to ensure that the hostages are freed, and to stand with the Jewish State. We have an absolute right to self-defense and to living safely wherever we dwell. We will not be silent. We will become stronger. We will not only pass this test, but our Judaism and our Jewish life will become more vibrant and more inspiring than ever. 

Am Yisrael Chai! 
Shabbat Shalom.

For the Love of Israel and All Humanity:
An American-Israeli Rabbi Reflects on Terrorism and War in Israel
Remarks taken from Community Israel solidarity Gathering at Beth Tfiloh
on Tuesday, October 10
Bereshit (Genesis 1:1-6:8)

The Jewish People and so many others in our inspiring start-up nation, our beloved State of Israel, are experiencing unfathomable suffering and are now engaged in an unprecedented war of defense. In our anguish and our deepening sorrow, we must find comfort and strength in gathering together. Let’s not forget: We are experts not only in suffering, but also in spiritual, communal and, if need be, military resilience as well. Our determination – the determination of the Jewish People and the State of Israel – is unbreakable.

Even as we mourn the more than 1,300 innocent people who have been murdered, and even as we pray for healing for the wounded, and for — God-willing — the safe return of all those held captive by inhuman and barbaric terrorists, we also have a message for the world: We call upon all nations and all decent people to ensure the immediate release and safe return of those so brutally taken hostage by Hamas. We call upon the nations of the world to stand with Israel in this unprecedented crisis and to affirm its right to exist in peace.

When any Jew is suffering, we feel their pain acutely. We share one body. We are one family. We are responsible, Arevin zeh b’zeh, one for the other. We are one people: we share one fate and we share the same destiny.

So what do we do now? What can we do here and now?
First of all, we have enormous collective strength and influence. Immediately, we must bring to bear any and all pressure on the nations of the world to speak out against Hamas and insist on the safe return of the hostages. We must speak out in support of Israel and never let the world forget each of the names of the hostages. We must post on social media and write op-eds in our local and national news outlets, speak out at schools and other institutions so that the world cannot but hear our call.

Secondly, we must remember that together, we can give enormous support for the huge needs of Israelis on the ground — on all the front lines both north and south, east and west. And of course, we can offer enormous support to all the citizens of Israel on the home front. Support the amazing mobilization of Israelis as they seek to defend and protect every citizen.

In the short term, once the hostages are returned and the bodies are buried, we will need to help Israel rebuild so that all its citizens can live in safety and peace. We will also need to support Israel as it strengthens its civil society and becomes a more stable and strong community of mutually committed citizens. This is what will ensure that Israel prevails.

In the long term, we also need to ensure that the United States not only continues to stand shoulder to shoulder with Israel but that it also does everything in its power to create a more sustainable middle east.

We — the Jewish people in Israel, in Baltimore, and throughout the world — cannot and will not allow the forces of evil to overcome us. Refuse to give in to despair. We are strong, we are resilient, we are determined to continue to thrive as Jews and as Israelis. Ultimately, one of the most important things we can all do is to wear our Jewish identity proudly. Let’s wear our Stars of David. Fly our Israeli flags. Celebrate everything we love about being Jewish. Let’s recommit to living full and joyful Jewish lives. Let this be part of how we protest against the darkness of this time.

This Shabbat, as we gather for Solidarity Shabbat, we read from the Torah portion Beresheet, about the creation of the world out of a chaotic void. We will read about the creation of light and darkness, and about the distinction between the two.

God said, Vayehi Or: ‘Let there be light’; and there was light.” Even in a time of such chaos, we must continue to distinguish between darkness and light. We must help the world continue to distinguish. L’havdil ben yom v’lilah….

Against evil, we must be even greater forces for good by being even more committed to our basic human and Jewish values. We must each be sources of light, just as Israel is a light unto the nations.

Last Shabbat, on Simchat Torah, when we concluded our yearly cycle of reading the entire Torah and just before we immediately began anew, we called out:
Chazak. Chazak. V’Nitchazek. Let us be courageous, Let us be strong, and let us strengthen one another.

Tonight, let us say it together again, but even louder, so that it rings over and over again in our ears in the difficult days and months ahead:

Chazak Chazak V’Nitchazek!

Hearing the Call of the Earth Anew this Sukkot:
What is Our Role in Responding to the Climate Crisis?
Sukkot I (Leviticus 22:46-23:44)

I absolutely love this time of year. Yes, the summer has passed and the High Holy Days are behind us, but the best festival –Sukkot– is just beginning! I love how we share in the building and decorating of our Sukkah at Har Sinai-Oheb Shalom and I love celebrating in our home Sukkah with our family. It’s like a week-long picnic and mini-camping trip and we only have to go out to the backyard. 

I also love Sukkot because it reminds me of some basic truths about our existence. First of all, we should be sure to celebrate everything, especially the beauty and fragility of the natural world. Secondly, as we shake the lulav, we can express our gratitude for the bounty of the fall harvest, and everything we have. And third, it reminds us of our original role of responsibility for the natural world. 

Sukkot is also the holiday when we read Ecclesiastes. It’s famous for the verses it offered for the famous song “To Every Thing There is a Season.” At this time of year we definitely feel the changing of the seasons. But in a Midrash on Ecclesiastes we are also reminded: 

"Do not destroy My world, for if you do, 
there will be nobody after you to make it right again."

But how can we recommit to taking care of the world when so much of our lives are spent trying to protect ourselves from it? But not on Sukkot. When we celebrate in our temporary, humble huts we can’t but help but become more aware of the power of nature, our vulnerability, and our place in the big scheme of the universe. As the weather gets colder and the days grow shorter, instead of hunkering down inside our homes, we do the opposite. We go outside to dwell in our tiny huts. We go out into nature not just for a few hours, but for a whole week. 

A whole week? While each of our three harvest-based festivals originated in week-long celebrations, today I think we need a whole week because we need that much time to fully experience a reunion with the natural world. It’s enough time to be more keenly aware of how even a little bit of rain or sun affects existence. It’s enough time to look up at the sky and watch as the full moon of the first night begins to gradually wane. It gives us enough time to experience the natural world so alive with colors and to feel the changing of the seasons. Maybe it’s even enough time to become more aware of the fragility of the world and the seriousness of the climate crisis? 

Dwelling in a Sukkah is also one way we can recognize our true state of dependence on the environment and our role in it. We might hide from it or ignore it most of the time, but we are vulnerable to the natural world, to the weather, and to the state of the climate. 

Our congregation has not been blind to the increasing urgency of the climate crisis. We have committed to multiple projects to decrease our negative impact and to be a force for good in the environment. Our synagogue is already committed to recycling, we’ve planted dozens of trees, and we’re investigating solar panels and additional ways of becoming a more “green” congregation. But there is so much more we can –and must– do. 

This year, like more and more of our sister Reform Congregations, we can commit to becoming a congregation of zero waste. This year, we can commit our hearts, our homes, and our shared Har Sinai-Oheb Shalom home, to becoming places of environmental sustainability. If we continue to move in this direction, then we will be fulfilling our role in God’s glorious world. And, if we are really committed to it, we might be blessed with many more years of Sukkot celebrations. May it be so. 

Shabbat Shalom v’Chag Sukkot Sameach! 
Shabbat Shalom and Blessings for a Joyous Sukkot!

The Power of a New Beginning: Preparing for Rosh HaShanah
Nitzavim-Vayeilech (Deuteronomy 29:9-31:30)

How wonderful to come together this Shabbat as we celebrate a new school year and the upcoming High Holy Days! Our children and grandchildren have begun new grades and stages in their lives, the school year and all its activities and sports swing into full gear, and the seasons may actually be changing, too.  

This Shabbat, we also prepare to begin anew. In just one week, we'll gather to eat apples with honey and hear the powerful sounds of the shofar as we celebrate Rosh HaShanah. What’s amazing about this moment is that we each get not only to taste the sweetness of the new year and all its possibilities, but we also have a powerful opportunity for transformation. Each of us is invited to stand at the crossroads of our lives. To make the most of this opportunity, we gather for a collective pause to celebrate and to consider the past, the present, and the future of our lives as individuals and as a community. We are full of memories of what was, awareness of what is, and hopes of what is yet to be. 

Thankfully, Jewish sages have spent millennia trying to help each one of us, the average human being, accept the sometimes painful truths of who we are, and figure out how to become better humans. There are also countless contemporary experts — economists and psychologists and spiritual leaders — who have written best selling books about how to change. On Erev Rosh HaShanah, I will share gleanings of these teachings and how combining some of their wisdom can help us change as individuals in the year ahead — how we can each live the best possible versions of ourselves in 5784.  

What’s powerful about these High Holy Days is that the opportunity to reflect isn’t only an individual one. We also have the chance to reflect on our relationships with our families, our congregation, our community, our country and our world. What will ensure that next year won’t be full of the same mistakes of last year? How can we live differently in the year ahead to ensure a better future for all those we care about? 

We will also ask questions about our Har Sinai-Oheb Shalom Congregation. How can we work together to ensure that our congregation is even more positively impactful in our community? How can we collectively have an impact in improving our world — whether it be politically, environmentally, economically or psychologically? In so many ways, our society and our world are in need of healing. The days ahead will give us the opportunity to reflect together on what role we can and must play. On Rosh HaShanah morning, I will speak about the wisdom we’ve inherited to help us in these endeavors. (Spoiler alert! I will be referring to recent movies including Oppenheimer, Barbie, and Golda.)

Our experiences as American Jews and those of our Jewish Democratic State of Israel offer us so many resources to help inspire us and guide us on this journey. There is so much we can learn from the wisdom, successes and failures of the past that we can harness for the future. In fact, this week’s Torah portion, Nitzavim-Vayeilech, reminds us that the wisdom and insight we need are accessible to all of us. 

It is not in heaven, that you should say, "Who will go up to heaven for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?' Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, 'Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?" No, the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe (Deuteronomy 30:12-14). 

In other words, it’s up to each one of us to embrace and apply the wisdom of the past. Especially during our upcoming High Holy Days, we have the opportunity to embrace a moment of endless possibilities for ourselves, our loved ones, and the world. May we merit such an opportunity.

Shabbat Shalom!

Why We Must Be The Prophets
Shoftim (Deuteronomy 16:18-21:9)

What does this week's Torah portion have to do with us? Everything. 

This week's Torah portion, Shof'tim, "Judges," begins by clarifying the inherent ethics of the judges themselves in who they are and how they adjudicate. Establishing and maintaining just courts is foundational to creating a just society. 

This section of the Torah emphasizes the need for multiple branches of power in order to create a healthy society. In theTorah, there are four different branches of 'government:’ kings, prophets, priests, and judges. In the ancient world, what the Israelites proposed was radical because humanity previously only knew about kings, pharaohs, and dictators. But our Jewish tradition introduced the idea that only well-functioning multiple branches of government could ensure a balanced power and a civil society. After just one generation of experimentation with leadership in the desert, Moses already knew that each branch of government must not only be balanced by another, but it would also need to be corrected for its failures. 

In our Torah portion, the Deuteronomist (the author of the book of Deuteronomy) insists that four categories of leaders are necessary: judges, kings, priests, and prophets. Each one had a unique role and was selected by both the people and God. None could achieve their position without meeting very high standards. To be a judge, one must not only be wise, trained, and experienced, but a judge must also be immune to the pressures of being in such a position of power. For example, a judge must be immune to seduction and bribery. 

The king must be ethical and not misuse public funds or resources. The authors of our sacred text knew that power is likely to corrupt. The priest must be ritually pure and spiritually strong. And the prophet must see clearly where other leaders are failing. The prophet must be a clear-headed visionary for creating a better society. Most importantly, the prophet must not be afraid to speak the truth. 

While we may not have kings and priests in our time, we still need impartial judges and courageous prophets in order to ensure that our society is just. This week, together with a few members of our congregation and some experts, I had the opportunity to see a judge in action in renters court. We wanted to learn about how the first level of this part of our justice system succeeds and fails. I could not but help hearing the power of our tradition as I watched and listened. This week’s Torah portion specifically insists that we need judges who will not pervert justice, who will not succumb to bribes to be appointed (Deut 16:18-19). 

After all, as we read, tzedek, tzedek tirdof: “Justice, justice shall you pursue!” (Deut. 16:20). But even with the right judges in place, rebellion and perversion will likely ensue in society. The Deuteronomist accepts this as part of the human social condition and seeks to create ways of diminishing its negative impact on innocent people. But judges, while necessary as a single system of leadership, will not be enough to maintain a civil society.

What about the prophet? Who plays that role today? We do. 

As a religious community, we must not be concerned only for ourselves. As Jews, we must also be the religious critics. Our society depends upon us to be like the prophets. Like the prophets, we must be especially sensitive to abuses of power, and brave in spirit, unafraid to speak out to those in power.  We must be the religious critics of the ills of our society. All societies need to be accountable to uphold their own values and standards. Otherwise, as the text — and history — teach us, any government and its leaders will become blind to what's really happening in society. Without our own prophetic sensibilities, we will lose track of what’s most important. We will — God-forbid — turn a blind eye to the innocent suffering in our midst, and most certainly, we will ignore our own failings. 

Today, we must continue to deepen our understanding and expand our knowledge about what’s happening in our world and in our community so that we can fulfill our role. Let us be vigilant about the use and abuses of power we witness. May we never fail to raise our voices and speak out to protect the vulnerable and ensure justice for all.  This is our prophetic role. This is our inheritance. 

Shabbat Shalom!

Learning About Life by Learning Torah
Vaetchanan (Deuteronomy 3:23-7:11)

“You shall teach them diligently to your children and shall talk of them ... ” (Deuteronomy 6:7)

While we don’t agree on much, over time and space we religiously minded Jews do seem to agree on one central thing: the supreme importance of the study of Torah. From the Revelation of the Ten Commandments at Sinai to the first public reading of the Torah in the days of Ezra and Nehemiah to the study of Talmud in Babylonia and then Europe — and today, especially in Israel and North America — ongoing spiritual and intellectual investigation of our ancient scriptures is at the core of Jewish life and culture.

But what is Torah study? And why should we still study such an ancient text? Since the birth of the modern era, what constitutes “Torah study” has widened substantially to include historical, linguistic, and ethical concerns. A newfound openness to secular sciences, the increasingly busy lifestyle, and the proliferation of diverse intellectual pursuits means the value of Torah study can no longer be taken for granted. As modern movements in Judaism emerged, the methodologies and types of questions asked of the texts shifted dramatically. The Torah, while understood to be sacred, was not necessarily seen as being of divine origin, and thus its commandments were not automatically acknowledged as absolutely obligatory. Given the historicist concerns (Is the Bible true?) regarding the religious question of its source, the question arose: Why learn Torah? The necessity, the meaning, and the nature of Torah study is indeed a real question for many Jews today.

Several answers can be given to this question from within our tradition. They can, I believe, be categorized under four primary models.

1.“O how I love Your teaching. It is my study all day long (Psalms 119:97).

Torah as an encounter/conversation with God is the first model. Here, Torah study needs no rationale; it is simply inspired by one’s natural desire for the word of God. Torah, for the psalmist, is an object of love, of constant engagement, absorbing the learner and filling her entire being. Unfortunately, this spontaneous outburst of love for Torah is a foreign notion to most modern Jews.

2.“You shall teach them diligently to your children and shall talk of them …” (Deuteronomy 6:7).

This second model, championed in this week’s Torah portion, Va-et’chanan is followed by many Jews today. This mode views Torah study as part of a basic, rudimentary Jewish education. Torah (here I use the term in the wider sense of all classical Jewish texts) becomes the source of one’s foundational knowledge of Judaism, its central stories, holidays, and values. A great deal of resources are thus invested in teaching Torah to primary- and middle-school-age children, ensuring that every Jew starts out her or his life with the basic facts and figures of Judaism. For many in the non-Orthodox Jewish world, Torah study ends here, and is about as relevant to adult life as eighth-grade geometry.

3.“… Let him read in it all his life, so that he may learn to revere the Eternal his God, to observe faithfully every word of this Teaching…” (Deuteronomy 17:19).

In the third model (reflected upon in a later Torah portion) the Torah serves as a source of religious authority; learning it is a way of perfecting one’s religious practice. Adherents of this model, mainly observant Jews, consult the Torah whenever they have a question relating to Jewish law and ritual: What is the ethical way of giving money? How should one get married? What are the laws of Shabbat? When should one pray? Torah, according to this model, remains relevant throughout one’s life, but as no more than a technical guide, rather like a useful phone book or road map.

4.“This book of the law shall not depart from your mouth but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it, for then you will make your way prosperous and then you will have success” (Joshua 1:8).

The fourth model also regards the Torah as a source text, though in a much wider sense. Far beyond a mere handbook of Jewish law, the Torah is seen as a wellspring of wisdom on virtually every aspect of one’s life. Whether it is a question of religious practice or ethical conduct, political ideology or economic policy, metaphysical conviction or aesthetic creed — followers of this model, a precious few, seek the Torah’s guidance at every turn.

While all four models provide tenable answers to the question — Why learn Torah? — it is this last model that I believe ought to be promoted in the modern Jewish world and in the Reform Movement in particular. We must strive to educate our children, our communities, our families, and ourselves to regard the Torah as a vital, dynamic text, as relevant to our lives today as it was 2000 years ago. We must come to be so engaged in the ideas and questions of Torah that it becomes a source of insight into our daily existence. Together, its ancient forms and modern commentaries can expand our understanding of the world around us, challenge our beliefs and preconceived notions, and inspire us to become more of who we want to be. It is only once we allow Torah to enter our lives, to permeate every aspect of our being, that we may someday come to exclaim with the psalmist, “O how I love Your teaching. It is my study all day long.”

Shabbat Shalom!

The Blessings of Authentic Jewish Leadership at Har Sinai-Oheb Shalom
Chukat-Balak (Numbers 19:1-25:9)

This week at Har Sinai-Oheb Shalom we celebrate our leadership. It’s not just a matter of elections and good governance, however. It’s a time to reflect on what principles of authentic Jewish leadership are most important for our congregation. 

At our Annual Meeting last night, the Congregation elected and installed a new president, Abby Hoffman, and we thanked and blessed our outgoing president, David Buchalter. We also elected and installed a new Executive Committee and new members of the Board of Trustees. One might think these are simple facts of good governance, but for our congregation, the work of our leaders reflect our vision and our values. 

But let’s pause before we leap toward the future to reflect on the blessings of the authentic Jewish leadership we are fortunate to celebrate. Many thoughtful leaders have worked tirelessly, lost plenty of sleep, attended infinite hours of meetings, confronted difficult challenges, made innumerable decisions, managed significant change, recruited and supported our professional team, and gave generously of their resources in time, wisdom, and money. We would not have reached this moment without all of this commitment and without all of these human and financial resources. But what makes any of this Jewish? Or sacred? 

Our leadership engages in sacred work because of the distinctly Jewish values and the distinctly Jewish leadership principles that clearly guide our congregational leadership. In these first two years of serving as your rabbi, I have witnessed so many aspects of Jewish leadership exemplified by our lay leadership nearly every day. 

The former Chief Rabbi of the UK, Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, described what he called the “Seven Principles of Jewish Leadership.” As we celebrate this leadership transition, I want to share just a few of the principles as food for thought and discussion in the months ahead. 

1. Leadership begins with taking responsibility. “At the heart of Judaism,” writes Rabbi Sacks, “there are three beliefs about leadership: We are free. We are responsible. And together we can change the world.”
2. No one can lead alone. We cannot live alone. We cannot lead alone. Leadership is teamsmanship. Or, as I like to say, nearly every aspect of what we do at HSOSC is a “team sport.” The work of our Board of Trustees, the Executive Committee, all the committees, our staff, our clergy, and all of our members make our congregation the kind of vibrant, joyful, social justice committed community that we are.  What makes us a sacred community, a Kehillah Kedoshah, however, is that our endeavors are based on our shared Jewish covenantal commitments. 
3. Leaders learn. This is especially true of our outgoing and incoming Presidents. They study regularly. They are curious, they ask questions, they seek to learn more about every issue or question or opportunity that emerges. Sacks thought that “without constant study, leadership lacks direction and depth.” I believe that and seek to model that as well. At HSOSC, our lay-leaders are in a constant chevruta/study partnership with their clergy. Or as Sacks writes, “study makes the difference between the transformative leader and the manager.”
4. Leadership is about the future. It is vision-driven. Sacks argues that before you can lead, you must have a vision of the future and be able to communicate it to others. But for HSOSC, no single person determines the vision of our congregation. The vision that drives our future is something we will all be involved in creating together.

These are just a few principles of authentic Jewish leadership that we might consider as we celebrate a new group of elected lay leaders and work together to continually lift our congregation to new heights. We can reach new heights if we keep our shared Jewish values in focus. As we continue to learn, grow, experiment, and celebrate we can also strive to be something more than we are. We can have stronger relationships with each other, deepen our knowledge and have We must strive as individuals and as a community to model our values. If we want to be a sacred community, a Kehillah Kedosha, however, we must also continue to nurture sacred relationships and partnerships among us. 

May we continue to thrive together for many years to come.

Shabbat Shalom!

Peoplehood, Responsibility, and Hope
Sh'lach (Numbers 13:1-15:41)

This week I’ve been in Israel teaching and speaking at an international conference for emerging Jewish leaders between the ages of 25-40 from 18 (!) different countries worldwide. It's been a week of learning about the myriad of challenges facing Jewish communities around the world and the dynamic responses to these challenges. The seminar is part of the Nahum Goldmann Fellowship, which is a project of the Memorial Foundation for Jewish Culture (MFJC). It’s possibly the only pluralistic learning and leadership program for young Jewish leaders from around the world that creates and sustains a network that truly builds Jewish peoplehood.

These amazing young Jewish leaders of vastly different religious and political affiliations have taught me a great deal about the true realities of Jewish people today and about our future. We studied ancient and contemporary texts, sociological data and trends, and of course the complex realities of Israel today and what the role of Jews living outside of Israel should be in the current crisis. Despite the differences between an African fellow who’s teaching Judaism to his Jewish tribe, a Ukrainian who has fled the war, and a secular Israeli, they each want to understand what keeps the other up at night and they all feel a strong sense of mutual responsibility. 

The sessions I taught were on leadership, the changing US-Israel relationship, gender and identity in ancient Jewish texts, and I spoke at a plenary entitled “What Binds the Jewish People?” alongside an Israeli Orthodox scholar, Rabbi Dr. Sam Lebens. Yesterday, I spoke on a panel with the well-known author Yossi Klein HaLevi (who will visit us soon in Baltimore!) and Dr. Danny Fainstein, a scholar from Latin America. The MFJC and the fellowship is fearlessly led by a colleague and friend, Rabbi Dr. Jeni Friedman, with whom I’ve been learning for many years because of the Wexner Foundation fellowship we share. 

I am grateful to the leadership of Har Sinai-Oheb Shalom who supports my ongoing development and learning as a rabbi and scholar. Not only is it intellectually and spiritually renewing to be part of such an amazing global project, but my participation offers our congregation broader resources as we engage with our own challenges and opportunities. In the weeks ahead, I look forward to sharing more of what I’ve learned about our diverse Jewish world, the trends, and the possibilities. 

Shabbat Shalom!

How Do We Live a Life of Meaning?
Shavuot II (Deuteronomy14:22-16:17)

This is the season of our transitions and transformation. From graduations to confirmations, this time of year is ripe with an awareness of time and its meaning. It is a time of imagining the possibilities for the future and looking back with a sense of accomplishment of the past.

Every culture measures time in particular ways, but Judaism teaches us to constantly re-frame it, to measure it and even to try to transcend it. A life of meaning comes from being “hypersensitive” to the passage of time which should cause us to strive to live our deepest values every day.

As an “operating system,” Judaism promotes a life of daily rituals and a yearly cycle of holidays that reinforce numerous core values including human equality, the supreme value of life, and the communal ethics of the Torah.

Now, as we celebrate the third of our yearly major festivals,– the holiday of Shavuot – we once again feel the rhythms of the seasons. Shavuot celebrates the culmination of the grain harvest and the inauguration of the fruit harvest. Shavuot is also the holiday on which we celebrate receiving the Torah, zman matan Torahteinu. This is when we celebrate that "the Torah is a tree of life."

On Shavuot we also read the Book of Ruth which begins with a sense of loss after Ruth loses her husband and her mother-in-law, Naomi, mourns the loss of her sons. At first the situation appears to be a time of hopelessness, but suddenly new possibilities for the future emerge. Naomi insists that her daughters-in-law, Ruth and Orpah, return to their fathers’ homes where they will have guaranteed safety and security. But Ruth rebels against this rational advice and clings to her mother-in-law, Naomi. Ruth insists on returning with Naomi back to Bethlehem. (Ruth 1:14) It is at this moment that Ruth makes a dramatic declaration of faith and commitment which has come to characterize what it means to be part of the Jewish people:

For wherever you go, I will go, and wherever you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people and your God, my God. (Ruth 1:16)

The story of Ruth is the story of a radically different understanding of the meaning of time and the possibilities of the future. Rather than choosing the safe, rational option of returning to her father’s home, Ruth chooses to re-attach herself to a people whose sense of time transcends the immediate experience of it, even in our darkest hours. She has a sense that maintaining this kind of faith in a person, in a community, and in God is, quite literally, stronger than death itself.

Ruth takes risks in order to give her life a completely new meaning. By the next season she is remarried and the mother of Oved, who will become the grandfather of King David. From the moment we meet Ruth, she has a profoundly broad sense of history. She even transcends tragedy and imagines a future that no one else could have seen. Ruth embodies ultimate hope. It is no wonder that Judaism makes her the first ancestor of the Messiah, and a time of perfection.

This Shavuot, may we strive to be like Ruth, open to the future and filled with incredible optimism for a world that – today – we can only begin to imagine.

Hag Sameach and Shabbat Shalom!    

Who Are We and How Do We Become Holy?
Emor (Leviticus 21:1-24:23)

These questions can be answered in a myriad of ways. Most of the teachings of Jewish culture, about what it means to be Jewish and to be considered a sacred people, are based on thousands of sacred books and millions of words. Nonetheless, I think that Judaism is made up of a few core ideas.

These core ideas are expressed in just a few powerful phrases that sum up who we are. You might even say that these phrases are ‘mantras’, phrases and ideas that we repeat so often that they become part of who we are. One of them is that we are lovers and pursuers of peace, “Ohev Shalom v’rodeph shalom”. Another is that we protect the vulnerable because “we were slaves in Egypt,” “Avadim Hayinu.” Another is the call: “You shall be holy.” 

This phrase, “kedoshim tehiyu”, “you shall be holy”, occurs hundreds of times in the Torah and hundreds of thousands of times in the commentaries. But our Torah in these weeks really spells it out: “Speak to the whole Israelite community and say to them: “You shall be holy, for I, the LORD your God, am holy.”(Leviticus 19:2) The text continues to list many behaviors that must be avoided in order to ensure that we are good, moral, and thus holy people. This section, known as the “holiness code” includes a wide range of laws, ranging from behaviors of purity of body to the ways in which we need to act toward others to ensure that we live in a civil and moral society. 

One commentator, Rabbi Shimon Shkop, in his Introduction to "The Gates of Righteousness" writes: 

“And so, it appears to my limited understanding that this mitzvah includes the entire foundation and root of the purpose of our lives. All of our work and effort should constantly be sanctified to benefit the community.” All our behaviors, he argues, should have “some element of helping another.” In other words: “all holiness is about living for an honorable purpose.”

I love this interpretation because it emphasizes another key Jewish idea: “It’s not all about me.” Our behavior, in every situation, should take into account not only how it affects us and how it defines us as individuals, but also how it affects the community. If we keep this larger perspective in mind, then everything we do will be filled with clarity and purpose. If we can act with the goal of goodness and morality in all that we do, then over time, we will become holy.

Mixed Emotions: Our Upcoming Days of Mourning and Celebration
Shmini (Leviticus 9:1-11:47)

In a few days we will commemorate Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day) and the following week, Yom HaZikaron (Israel’s Memorial Day for fallen soldiers and security forces). And just when all this heavy remembering seems just too much, the entire country suddenly erupts in joy and celebration! Immediately at sundown after Yom HaZikaron, the fireworks and celebrations of Yom HaAtzmaut, (Israeli Independence Day) begin. Each of these days offer us the opportunity to learn, remember, honor, and celebrate. Jewish history and culture make us very good at all these things. But is it enough? 

Our culture is all about remembering the injustice and misery of slavery alongside the celebrating how we thrive in our hard-won freedom. Over the years, I’ve spent many of these days of mourning and remembrance leading groups on March of the Living -- literally marching from Auschwitz to Birkenau with thousands of Jews and survivors from around the world, pictured in the photo here. I’ve also spent them in Israel at Yad VaShem or at ceremonies in cemeteries. Members of our family were murdered by the Nazis and their cruel collaborators at Babi Yar. For so many of us, the possibility of a very different fate is embedded in our subconscious. But our family story, like many of yours, also includes much joy in the enormous possibilities, successes, and privileges possible for us largely because of where and when we live. 

In Israel on Yom HaShoah and on Yom HaZikaron, a loud siren is sounded throughout the country at precise times. When the siren sounds the entire country comes to an absolute standstill. In a country where nearly every person has lost a loved one or family member who was a victim of the Holocaust and/or who died in defense of Israel, these days hold indescribable power.  

Yehuda Amichai (1924-2000), Israel’s national poet – also referred to as its ‘irreverent poetic conscience’ – once wrote: “And how does one stand in a Memorial Ceremony? Erect or bent, rigid like a tent or limp as in mourning, head humbled like the guilty or raised in defiance against death, eyes wild or frozen like the eyes of the dead, or shut, to view the stars within?”  

Such palpable questioning about what to do with the heaviness of memory and survival is profound. I must admit that no matter how much I’ve studied, or how many times I guided others through places where great horrors or battles took place, and no matter how many memorial ceremonies I’ve led or lectures I’ve given, I’ve never felt as though it was enough. Although I find all of this incredibly powerful, it never feels like it’s enough. 

But what if we truly enacted our remembrance? What if we were so inspired by the past and by those the millions lost that -- in addition to all the usual ways we remember-- we focus primarily on acting in meaningful ways to make our local and global communities better. We can do this in small and large ways whether by organizing or participating in a blood drive or food drive, or by funding new medical research, or by supporting Israel’s right to sovereignty and safety, or by taking part in social action to create more social justice in the world. If we do these things because we honor those who were lost who lived these shared values, then we are truly enacting remembrance and, at the same time, we can change the future. If we do these acts of repairing the world – tikkun olam – then the memory of our loved ones and all the fallen in defense of our people – will truly be for an eternal blessing.

Prayer for Inclusion of All People
Vayikra (Leviticus 1:1-5:26)

God of our ancestors, support us as we take on the sacred work of helping our holy communities evolve to become more diverse, equitable, and inclusive. 

May our words and actions help to create an open, inclusive, accessible, and welcoming Jewish world.

Source of Mercy and Love, just as You take note of those who call out to You, help us to pay attention to all of the people in my community, including those with disabilities, and to take the time to listen as they communicate their needs, desires, and emotions.

I know that this sacred work is mine alone. We all are doing this holy work together.

Help us to build partnerships and to remain mindful of our own limitations, and to continue the work even when it is difficult.

Source of Life, sustain us as we continue to build communities that value the gifts of each individual and that respect the challenges that each individual faces. 

Guide us as we work to create spaces where each unique person feels comfortable and seen, and where differences are seen as a blessing.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה אֲדֹנָי מְשַנֶּה הַבְּרִיּוֹת
Baruch Atah Adonai meshaneh ha’briyot.

Thank you, God, for making Your creations varied.  

[Rabbi Rachel Sabath adapted from Rabbi Michelle Greenfield]

Which Kind of Jew are You? A Purim Jew or a Passover Jew?
Tetzaveh (Exodus 27:20-30:10)

Today begins one of the four special Shabbatot before Passover. It’s called Shabbat Zakor – reminding us “to remember and never forget” the dangers of our enemies in every age. This seems too relevant in this age of rising antisemitism in the US and around the world and rising terrorism against Jews in Israel.

As we turn toward Purim, this special Shabbat also reminds us of the well-known and yes, I know, overused humorous summary of Jewish history and culture: 

"They tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat!” 

It wouldn’t be so funny and so poignant if it weren’t also so true. 

I have a precious colleague and friend, Yossi Klein HaLevi, who is fond of saying: “There are two kinds of Jews: There’s the Purim Jew and the Passover Jew.”

For many years at this time of year, we had the same argument about this false dichotomy. He would make this statement and I would fight against it. I argued against the idea that there are two kinds of Jews, mostly because a) I don’t like false dichotomies and b) I refuse to choose between core values. But c) I also fought against this binary view because I was sure that he was clearly a Purim Jew and I was clearly a Passover Jew. 

Here’s how Yossi Klein HaLevi put it: “Jewish history speaks … in the voice of two biblical commands to remember:

1. The first voice, the Passover voice, the voice of liberation. Passover commands us to remember that we were strangers in the land of Egypt, and the message of that command is: Don’t be brutal toward others. All who are hungry, come and eat. “Passover Jews” are motivated by empathy with the oppressed. 
2. The second voice, the Purim voice, commemorating our victory over the genocidal threat of Haman, a descendant of Amalek, “commands us to remember how the tribe of Amalek attacked us without provocation while we were wandering in the desert, and the message of that command is: Don’t be naive.” “Purim Jews” are motivated by alertness to threat.  

Ultimately, we agreed that both are essential; “one without the other creates an unbalanced Jewish personality, a distortion of Jewish history and values.”

Indeed we must be wary of leaning too far in one direction or the other. We should also refuse to choose between our core values — even though we certainly love a good Jewish debate. 

Given today’s realities, we continue to have much to learn about these tensions and how they continue to play out in our world, both Jewish and universal. As we learn and grow and celebrate together this Purim and Passover, I look forward to exploring these core particular and universal values in new ways. 

However we might define ourselves and regardless of our individual reactions to present day realities, may we be sure to embrace anew the core values of both holidays — with both the vigilance, the ethics, and the joy they inspire. 

Freedom Alone is Not Enough: What Matters is How Human We Are
Beshalach (Exodus 13:17-17:16)

Freedom by itself, only for oneself, is not enough. When the ancient Israelites were enslaved in Egypt, they initially demanded spiritual freedom for themselves – they wanted the spiritual freedom to serve their God. Only when they had both spiritual and physical freedom could they begin the journey toward Sinai to receive the Law; and only once they possessed a guiding legal and moral code could they begin to imagine building a just society in the Land of Israel. It was the Torah that taught us that the gift of our freedom is the ability to uphold a system of law that repeats, like a chorus, our responsibility to those who are most vulnerable.

From that first terrifying and joyful moment of freedom echoed in this week’s Torah portion, Beshalach (Exodus 13:17-17:16), to the difficult challenges of upholding the responsibilities of Torah and building an ethical society, freedom has not become any less demanding with the passing of time. Freedom is not, and never was, just about us.

God’s critique of the angels who sang as the Egyptian forces drowned in the Red Sea when they pursued the Israelites running frantically toward freedom is one indication of the complexity of freedom. The Israelites, having been saved, sang a song of thanksgiving to God — the great Song of the Sea in our weekly reading (Exodus 15). When the angels tried to join in, God reproved them: “My creatures [here, meaning the Egyptians] are drowning in the Sea and you are uttering praises?” Even the Egyptian soldiers were God’s “creatures'' (Babylonian Talmud, Megila 10b).

We should never rejoice in the suffering of other human beings, even if they are our enemies. If we do, we fail God and we fail humanity.

This powerful Midrash reminds us that, even when we’re free, we cannot forget the humanity of others. God never forgets the humanity of any single human being and neither should we. Freedom comes with enormous responsibility to God, to the Jewish people, to all other human beings and even to our enemies.

The classic commentators called ours a “difficult freedom” because of the complexity of the transformation from being enslaved to being free and because of the enormous responsibilities incurred. Jewish French philosopher Emmanuel Levinas (1906-1995) called it “difficult freedom” because our ethical responsibility to the other is infinite and ultimately impossible to fulfill. Responsibility is inscribed – literally written into our DNA – upon us from every encounter with another human being. This is the power of our inheritance. May we never cease to be worthy of it.

What Can Moses Teach Us About Our Own Imperfections?
Vaera (Exodus 6:2-9:35)

What do the great writers William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Franz Kafka (1883-1924), the famous neurologist and founder of psychoanalysis, Sigmund Freud (1856-1939), and just about every oppressed person throughout history all have in common? They all share the same source of inspiration: the Biblical Moses. 

Moses (circa 1250 BCE) was a complicated character. He was an orphan and adopted. He was an immigrant and a lonely shepherd. Torn between three separate identities, and while he was multilingual, he was also self-consciously disabled and seemed to have a speech impediment. He also had emotional issues. He struggled with anger management and was sometimes unnecessarily violent. Yet he was the imperfect human being that God chose for the greatest mission of human history. 

These are the stories we read as we begin our journey through the Book of Exodus. Moses’ life story is striking. He was an abandoned baby, grew up in a palace, and as a young man was horrified by injustice and spurred toward social activism. Moses was a life-long immigrant who became a political activist, a prophet, and a diplomatic negotiator. With Aaron’s partnership, and God’s might and instructions, Moses led the liberation of the Israelites from generations of slavery. Over decades he had to lead an ungrateful and unskilled population on an impossible mission through an unforgiving desert toward receiving the Torah at Har Sinai and ultimately toward the Promised Land of Israel.

As we read through the Book of Exodus in the weeks ahead, we will watch with trepidation as Moses grapples with his weaknesses and we’ll breathe a sigh of relief whenever he is able to embrace his own complexity. But even while he struggles, and even while he is sometimes consumed with self-doubt, he never stops focusing on his ultimate goals, or being guided by ethical imperatives. 

Perhaps most importantly, he never lets his many character flaws prevent him from becoming who he needed to be. He was courageous enough to argue with God and with powerful leaders for the sake of the collective good. Even when overcome with doubt and regularly falling on his face in frustration, despair, or fear, he carries on.

Moses is a man who grows and learns, who struggles with his demons and fatal flaws, but never abandons his vision for the future for his people – even if he doesn’t get to live it. As Kafka wrote: “Moses fails to enter Canaan not because his life is too short, but because it is a human life.” 

We, too, succeed and fail. We, too, each have our imperfections. But the more we face our flaws and still keep ethics and our vision of the future in mind, the greater meaning our very human lives can have. 

What's Your Story? Knowing the Past, Living in the Present, and Imagining the Future
Vayigash (Genesis 44:18-47:27)

How we tell our stories reveals a lot not only about our past, but also about the possibilities for our future. Think about how you tell the story of your childhood, or how you met your partner, or decided on your career. How much do these stories explain who you’ve been and who you’ve become? In so many of the life stories people share with me I am struck by how a single experience or a single moment of decision influences an entire life. A single chance meeting or health challenge or unexpected opportunity become turning points out of which our future emerges. 

Sometimes people retell the same story several times in different ways. The way you tell the story about when you met your true love, experienced a professional breakthrough, or dealt with a challenging relationship, reveal so much about us.

In the chapters of the Torah we read during these winter weeks, Joseph tells and foretells his own story. Through sharing his dreams and those of others he helps people better understand the past and imagine the future. First he interprets his own dreams and then those of others. 

Early in his life, Joseph’s dreams foretell how he will become a powerful person and how desperately his family will need him and bow down to him. Needless to say, sharing that story infuriated his brothers. In other cases, his dream interpretation foretold the short term and long term agricultural and economic forecast of an entire region of Africa. His ability to imagine the possibilities saved countless lives.

Remarkably, at every turn, Joseph is able to transcend the immediate situation and help others see the bigger picture– to imagine the future and prepare for it. Even though he is a survivor of being thrown into a pit by his brothers, sold into slavery, and imprisoned by an Egyptian ruler, he remains future focused. Instead of dwelling on the past and on his personal suffering, Joseph was motivated much more by his love of others and his concern for our collective future.

One of the reasons I think we retell these stories over and over again each year is so that we, too, can be inspired to see the bigger picture and focus on what’s really important. 

We can also see in the story of Joseph not only the stories of an individual but also the unfolding meta-narrative of a people. Joseph’s struggle in the pit, his survival, rise to power, and use of that power to save and protect his family are not just about that particular family. When all is said and done, his particular story is also the story of the Jewish people as a nation. 

We have been thrown into slavery in Egypt and into other nightmares, but we, like Joseph, have been able to persevere and constantly keep the long view and the ultimate goal in mind. Retelling the story of Joseph and his brothers, the Exodus from Egypt, or how we miraculously created a sovereign Jewish state, remind us of who we have been and the choices we’ve made at the crossroads of history.

We have always been, and can continue to be a people of courage, strength and hope – a people gifted with the power of the past, clarity about the present, and confidence in the future. 

The Dizzying Possibilities Of Hanukkah: What Are You Celebrating?
Vayishlach (Genesis 32:4-36:43)

There is no greater antidote to darkness than light. In these darker nights and shorter days of winter, we need to make more light. Judaism to the rescue!

While the ancient sages argued about exactly how, when, and where one should light the Hanukkah menorah (more on that during our Hanukkah study), they all agreed that the very act of lighting candles in the darkest nights of the year meant more than light itself.

You’re likely familiar with the most famous reason we light the candles: we recall an ancient miracle of oil in the Temple lasting for eight days instead of just one. But Hanukkah teaches us about so much more than just that eight-day miracle.

Depending on the place and time in which you live, Hanukkah has a deeper and greater significance. In some historical sources, Hanukkah is all about a miraculous military victory of the few against the many – of the Maccabees over the Hellenizing Greeks who wanted to extinguish the minority religious uniqueness of the Jews. For the emerging young state of Israel as well as for Israel today, this remains a very important narrative of military might protecting us from the great forces around us. In other words, Hanukkah is also about self-defense, sovereignty, and survival.

In many other situations, Hanukkah is about the precious and precarious nature of religious freedom. Think about Natan Sharansky and the other Prisoners of Zion, or about Jewish people persecuted during the Nazi regime. Think about any minority population just about anywhere, anytime in human history and we remember how precious and precarious religious freedom is.

Today, even here in America, we’re aware of how present antisemitism continues to be and we cannot take our protected minority status for granted. We depend on the kind of religious freedom for which the ancient Israelites fought and which all democracies must protect.

Still for others, Hanukkah is about having faith in the future despite our total uncertainty. Nothing emphasizes uncertainty more than a game based on chance. At our Hanukkah celebrations when we spin the dreidel – that ancient spinning toy – we’re very aware of how much chance is involved. The letters on the dreidel – Nun, Gimmel, Hey, Shin נ ג ה ש – are meant to spell out “Nes Gadol Haya Sham” – or ״A Great Miracle Happened There.״ We celebrate the miracle that we’re told happened far away, there in the Land of Israel. But if you’re in Israel itself, you’ll find the dreidel has a different letter. Instead of the shin (ש), there’s a pey-(פ) for the word poh, meaning here in English, because of the great miracle that happened here, in this place.

We’re still connected to that miracle and to the land where it happened. And we still can find inspiration in all these additional ways of relating to the meaning of the holiday. Whether you’re a spiritual Jew, an Israel-focused Jew, concerned about our Jewish survival, or simply someone who is committed to diversity, equality, inclusion and religious freedom, Hanukkah is your holiday.

The very fact that we, the Jewish people, have continued to embrace all of these different meanings of this otherwise minor post-Biblical holiday is something of a miracle itself— and definitely something we should celebrate with all our might and with as much light and joy as possible.

Family Drama: What Role Do We Play?
Toldot (Genesis 25:19-28:9)

Our founding fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob were not perfect. Neither were our founding mothers, Sarah, Rebecca, Leah and Rachel. Each had challenges, each had flaws. Some deceived each other and others struggled to understand their role in a drama bigger than them. 

What’s remarkable about Rebecca, whose role in her family leads to unforgettable drama in this week’s Torah portion, Toldot, is her persistence. Against all odds she embraces the full adventure of her life. In last week’s Torah portion Rebecca willingly leaves home and embarks on an adventure to meet Isaac. At first sight she falls in love with him. Immediately, we learn that Rebecca is the only one who can help Isaac find hope and love after his father nearly sacrificed him and his mother dies. Their love was the kind of love that heals. 

Rebecca later confronts her own challenges head on. For me, she is the original model of what it means to persist no matter what. In the face of uncertainty she seeks out God to help her understand her role and her destiny. She is the first woman to pray openly to God and who challenges God and who asks the eternal question: “Why Me?” But with or without clear answers from God, nevertheless, she persists and keeps moving forward. 

Her persistence isn’t just her insistence that she has a role to play in the evolution of her people. She persists even in the face of her own suffering and in the face of having to make difficult decisions. She’s inspiring because her suffering doesn’t dissuade her from ensuring not only her own destiny but that of her people. After struggling with infertility and praying to God together with her husband Isaac, she becomes pregnant with twins. But, as the text reads: “...the children struggled in her womb, and she said, ‘If so, why do I exist?’ She went to inquire of Adonai.” The Hebrew actually says she went “Lidrosh et Adonai,” literally meaning that she went ‘to demand’ an answer from God. 

“And God answered her, ‘Two nations are in your womb, Two separate peoples shall issue from your body….’” From that moment, she learned what every parent and every sibling must learn: No two children are alike. Our job is to help each one find out who they are and strive toward self-actualization. Our job is to teach our children what it means to persist even in the face of huge challenges and uncertainty.

Thanks to Rebecca's insight and persistence, however, she not only fulfilled her own destiny but she also ensured that the next generation was given the tools to achieve their destiny as well. 

May each be blessed, like Rebecca, with full awareness of who we can be, the strength to move forward even in the face of challenges, and a deep awareness of the positive roles we can play in the lives of others. 

What is our Mission? Acting with a Vision for the Future.

Lech L'cha (Genesis 12:1-17:27)

Our mission begins with the dramatic call heard in this week’s Torah portion. God calls out to Avram (later to be renamed Abraham) to “go forth!” – Lech L’cha. (Genesis 12:1) Leave your past behind you, leave your homeland and all that you know and love, and go on a journey into an unknown land, and toward an uncertain future. Avram accepts what must have seemed like an impossible mission. In ways that thousands of years of sages cannot explain, he simply knew that this was his mission and declared: “here I am”-- hineni! He said “yes” even though they didn’t have anything that they might need to fulfill the mission of becoming a great nation, much less the capabilities to “be a blessing” – to have a positive impact on the entire world. (Genesis 12:2) How could they commit to the future when they didn’t have even the most basic elements? How could they envision a world for their descendants when they had no children? 

All that Avram and Sarai (later renamed Sarah) had for the journey was 1) the love between them; 2) the community around them; and 3) a sense of God’s presence. Apparently, they believed that love, community and faith would be enough. They also had the kind of profound courage we might call a ‘leap of faith’ that propelled them with optimism into the future. 

Our Har Sinai-Oheb Shalom community also has the essential elements that we need to envision our future with confidence. Every day, members of our community demonstrate to each other incredible loving kindness, mutual responsibility, a connection to a particular people and place, and a sense of the sacred. And, like Abraham and Sarah, we also have faith in what we can create for future generations.

Later chapters of the Torah tell us what happened after Abraham and Sarah took that first leap of faith. They are the first to model the loving kindness that is at the heart of Jewish communal life. Repeatedly they model a commitment to ethics, to taking care of the sick, to welcoming the stranger, to comforting the mourner and toward forgiving each other. While they certainly had some doubts along the way, they never lost faith in the future. May these be our blessings as well. 

Beginning Anew: From the Beginning There Was Light

Bereshit (Genesis 1:1-6:8)

This Shabbat we begin reading the Torah from the beginning. Genesis Chapter 1, verse 1 reads: “In the Beginning God created….” 

Beginning right now, we can find new life and new meaning in our Jewish tradition and its sacred texts, beginning this Shabbat with the ancient story of creation. God creates order out of chaos and then leaves us, humanity, to sort out the rest. Among the first things God created was light: Va ye’hi or: “And there was light… A first day.” 

Beginning reading the Torah anew gives us a new opportunity to search for the ‘light’ – the insights – that can emerge from the past and illuminate the present. If we are patient, these insights we can even begin to illuminate the future – a new dawn for our people that we cannot yet know, but for which we can prepare.

We are not the first to seek the light that radiates from our ancient texts and to help us find our way.

Consider two beautiful examples from the vast interpretations:  

1)  When Moses descended from the top of Mt. Sinai with two stone tablets inscribed with the ten commandments the ancient sages imagined that the skin of his face was ablaze with light because he had been speaking with God. His face only began to glow when he had the text in his hand and in his heart. 

2)  Another midrash tells us of a discussion between two older sages about a new student. The teachers notice that a certain student went to a certain place to study and upon returning, the other students saw him and said: “he must have found a treasure!” Their teacher asked them, “How do you know?” They replied: “Because his face is glowing.”

The other teacher said: “But perhaps his face is glowing because he has learned a new interpretation of Torah?” The student then appeared, and the teacher asked him: “What have you learned?” He replied, "I have discovered an ancient interpretation of Torah!" The teacher applied to him the verse:

"A person's wisdom causes his face to glow." (Ecclesiastes 8:11)

As we begin Torah anew this Shabbat, may we, too, experience our faces aglow. May we, too, know both the great light from creation and from the wisdom of all those who engaged in Torah before us. If we can open ourselves up to its wisdom perhaps we, too, can find our own new ways of understanding what it means for our time so that it will continue to illuminate our path into the future.