Rabbi Sabath on the Sabbath

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.