Today we were treated to an example of leadership. Leadership by example. Today I helped celebrate a Bar Mitzvah of a special young man. He chose as his project to host a soccer scrimmage game for an organization called Soccer for Peace. And then he role modeled that peace. For Ein Keholenu he taught one of his teammates the Hebrew words and they led it together. For Adon Olam, he taught one of his teammates the Hebrew words and they led it together. A Jewish American Mongolian Bar Mitzvah and an Indian American. A Jewish American Mongolian Bar Mitzvah and a Latino. Peace through prayer. Peace through soccer. For one shining moment.
We talked extensively about “Love your neighbor as yourself,” as we plan for National Night Out. As we “borrow” our neighbors’ church parking lots and the funeral home’s lot across the street.
While we were singing, there was another mass shooting. This time at a WalMart in El Paso. I’ve been to a Bnei Mitzvah at the synagogue in El Paso. My twin niece and nephew. That was a day of peace too. I know the rabbi in El Paso. He has done a lot of research and work with “hidden Jews”, the descendants of Jews who came to the New World escaping the Spanish Inquisition. Every year, in a community that is 47% Hispanic, someone sits in my office and tells me they think they might be Jewish because their grandmother lights candles on Friday night or they fast on one special day in September or they never eat pork. And I think of Rabbi Stephen Leon.
I know the rabbi in Las Cruces, Rabbi Larry Karol from when he was the rabbi in Dover, NH. He was only 48 miles away from the shooting. He was worked extensively with refugees and asylum seekers. In Las Cruces and in Dover.
I spoke words this morning about the connection between peace and land. I even told a Mongolian coming of age story. You see, this morning’s Bar Mitzvah is the child of a mother born in Mongolia and a father from Long Island. Her father came to the United States, like many to follow the American dream.
What I didn’t talk about, choosing instead to celebrate this young man, was the idea of sanctuary cities. I have spoken about them before. How we need to have one law for citizen and sojourner alike. How we need to protect the widow, the orphan and the stranger. All of that was in today’s Torah portion. Instead, I talked about inheritance. The Torah is his inheritance. However his words and his actions give me hope on a very dark day.
My remarks:
Take a deep breath. Look around. Smile. You did it…but that was never in doubt, was it?
Your Torah portion, was you’ve just taught us, is about the daughters of Zelophefad. Now Zelophad had no sons, and back in the day, his land would just revert to common property. No one to inherit, right?
Wrong. The daughters of Zelophefed stood up for themselves. Spoke out to Moses who then questioned G-d and the daughters inherited their father’s land.
Today is about your inheritance. When we passed down the Torah to you, from generation to generation, you received an inheritance. You are a link in that chain. When we practiced that on Thursday, there were tears from your grand parents. I can’t say for certain, but I imagine that those were tears of joy and pride, naches in Yiddish. I know that you are the only grandchild who had a Bar or Bat Mitzvah and you then have become that chain.
When Israel stood to receive the Torah, the Holy One said to them: “I am prepared to give you My Torah. Present to Me good guarantors that you will observe and study the Torah and I shall give it to you.”
They said: “Our ancestors are our guarantors.”
The Holy One said: “Your ancestors are not sufficient guarantors. Bring Me good guarantors, and I shall give you the Torah.”
They said: “Our prophets are our guarantors.”
The Holy One said: “The prophets are not sufficient guarantors. Bring Me good guarantors and I shall give you the Torah.”
They said: “Indeed, our children will be our guarantors.”
The Holy One said: “Your children are good guarantors. For their sake I give the Torah to you.”
You are that guarantor.
I often tell another the story, that of Honi the Circle Drawer. Peninah Schram tells it this way:
“Honi the Wise One was also known as Honi the Circle Maker. By drawing a circle and stepping inside of it, he would recite special prayers for rain, sometimes even argue with God during a drought, and the rains would come. He was, indeed, a miracle maker. As wise as he was, Honi sometimes saw something that puzzled him. Then he would ask questions so he could unravel the mystery. One day, Honi the Circle Maker was walking on the road and saw a man planting a carob tree. Honi asked the man, “How long will it take for this tree to bear fruit?” The man replied, “Seventy years.” Honi then asked the man, “And do you think you will live another seventy years and eat the fruit of this tree?”
The man answered, “Perhaps not. However, when I was born into this world, I found many carob trees planted by my father and grandfather. Just as they planted trees for me, I am planting trees for my children and grandchildren so they will be able to eat the fruit of these trees.”
You are the inheritor of two traditions…there is a lovely little book, The Blue Sky, about the coming of age of a little (the book doesn’t say how little) boy born in Mongolia. Tucked high in the Altai Mountains, the nomadic Tuvan people’s ancient way of life is colliding with modernity. Sound familiar? The young Sheppard boy, Dshurukuwaa (I can’t pronounce his name either, Yuna!) goes through a coming of age challenge. His older siblings leave the family yurt to attend boarding school. His grandmother dies and they lose the connection to the ancient traditions and their deep relationship with the land. And then his dog dies, what he believed was “all that was left to him.” The boy keeps asking despairing questions, like why is this happening to me. And the Heavenly Blue Sky only answers in the silence of the wind.
That is either very Buddhist or very Jewish. Or both. My father used to say that a good Jew is someone who questions, thinks and argues. Keep asking those deep questions and listening for the answers and making them your own.
These were a nomadic people. People who wandered. Not in the desert like the Israelites, but wandered in the mountains. Today you completed reading the Book of Numbers, Bamidbar, in the wilderness. On the land. Soon, in our sacred story telling, the Israelites wandering will be over. But that wandering brought the Israelites closer together and gave them strength! It taught them and unified their traditions which became their inheritance.
When you play soccer under a deep blue sky, you have a connection to the land, as you run up and down the field. That connection to your teammates, and the land and your love of the game, led you to explore Soccer for Peace, an organization that promotes peace in the Middle East by allowing boys and girls to play soccer in war torn towns. Places where they are fighting over the land. Who owns it? Who gets to inherit it? Even who gets to play soccer on it.
Wednesday night, I encourage any of you to come out to play soccer, even if you’ve never played before. We’ll just have fun kicking a ball around. No headers though—we don’t need any more concussions!
The Torah is your inheritance—and you are our guarantor.
Brandon, you have a deep connection to your people. You have a deep connection to the land and to soccer and to your friends. Like Honi and the little boy in Mongolia, you ask deep questions. Keep asking those questions, Keep listening for those answers.