Songs and Blessings of Peace–Toldot

Last night we sang 18 songs of peace. I am attaching the song sheet. Hashkivenu is one of my favorite songs. A Jewish lullaby asking for peace when we lie down, spreading over us a sukkat shlomecha, a canopy of G-d’s peace.

Don’t know any of these songs? Try Craig Taubman’s setting of Hashkivenu which Sarah and I sang as a duet last night.

I announced earlier this week that I would talk about Jacob and Esau’s birthright and what it means to be a modern Zionist. What I wanted to talk about had to do with how Rebecca was responsible for making sure that covenant continued and the strong role that she played in this. What I wanted to talk about was the Women at the Wall and how 6 more women were arrested this week for davening at the Wall on Rosh Hodesh Kislev. Seems wearing a tallit and saying the Sh’ma out loud is disturbing the peace. Something we take as natural here at Congregation Kneseth Israel. I want to have those conversations but not today. Today there are even more important topics. Today we all stand with Israel. Continue reading

Rosh Hodesh Kislev–Our Season of Light

It can be hard when we approach December to find light. The days are short, the nights are long. Many believe that is why Chanukah, the festival of light falls in Kislev. Kislev begins this week on Thursday.

This past weekend I experienced a new level of Interfaith Dialogue. I received a phone call from someone I couldn’t hear very well but who wants to participate in our Interfaith Thanksgiving service next week. She was the Muslim voice we were looking for. But she had a proposition, could I attend an interfaith event the next night to talk about light in Judaism. I agreed. I drove out to the address, getting lost along the way, but getting to see a rainbow on my way. Great—it reminded me that a rainbow is a symbol of the Divine covenant with all people—and it is the perfect balance between light and dark, sun and rain. I arrive at the MA Center, and it turns out that it is an ashram. Ablaze in light. This is Dewali, the Indian Festival of Light. The center is beautiful. The altar is filled with hundreds of oil lamps and draped with tiny Christmas lights. I am the last speaker of a panel that includes my new Muslim friend, a Mennonite, a Sikh, the head of the ashram, a Bahai woman. Our stories are all so similar. Each of us is supposed to present about light in our faith traditions for five minutes. Only five minutes? I represent a five thousand year tradition. Continue reading

Veteran’s Day–Service and Sacrifice

Aftermath
HAVE you forgotten yet?…
For the world’s events have rumbled on since those gagged days,
Like traffic checked while at the crossing of city-ways:
And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flow
Like clouds in the lit heaven of life; and you’re a man reprieved to go,
Taking your peaceful share of Time, with joy to spare.
But the past is just the same–and War’s a bloody game…
Have you forgotten yet?… Continue reading

Election Day–To Do and To Pray

There are many issues facing the United States this day. I have already voted. Simon and Sarah have as well. I spoke about the election last Friday at synagogue. While I have a strongly held position, it is not appropriate for me as a rabbi to state what that is from the bimah. I can say this. The election is very close. We have been granted a constitutional right to vote. In the beginning of this country, had I lived in Chelmsford in the 1600s, I could not have voted, I am neither male, Christian, nor a landowner. We have come very far. Jews have been praying for their secular leaders since Jeremiah’s day. “Thus said the Lord of Hosts, the G-d of Israel, to the whole community which I exiled from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them, plant gardens and eat their fruit. Take wives and beget sons and daughters. And seek the welfare of the city to while I exiled you and pray to the Lord in its behalf; for in its prosperity you shall prosper.” (Jeremiah 29:4-7). Some have said that it means to pray for peace, because if the country we live in knows peace we will know peace. Continue reading

Hurricane Sandy: To Do and To Pray

It has been one week since Hurricane Sandy struck the mainland US. Of course it had struck in the Caribbean first with significant loss of live and property. The meteorologists had this one right. This was a Superstorm, a Frankenstorm of Epic Proportions. I still have friends and relatives who are coping with immeasurable losses. The people I know best seem to be doing precisely that: coping. Many say it could be a lot worse. They are learning how little they need. They would like quicker repairs, shorter gas lines but realize that these are inconveniences. Others have lost much more. Those of us not on the East Coast struggle with what to do, with what to pray. Continue reading

Shehechianu–Sometimes It is the Little Moments

This past Shabbat our congregation was looking for any and all blessings. It had been a hard week, burying a much beloved member whose daughter had celebrated her wedding just the Friday afternoon before. We are all concerned about friends and relatives on the East Coast (more about that later). We needed something to celebrate. We found it in the eyes of our youth when we hosted PJ Shabbat for our youngest members. We said shehechianu for losing a first tooth, for tasting a first tomato, even for fixing the rabbi’s bathroom, a first in more than six years. On Shabbat morning I sat in a pew next to my daughter as the Men’s Club led the entire service, P’sukei D’Zimra through Musaf. Someone read Torah, someone else gave a D’var Torah and I sat next to my daughter. For some on the bimah for the first time, it was a shehechianu moment. For me, the shehechianu was for seeing the beautiful calligraphed Men’s Club Haftarah Scroll. It is also in empowering lay leaders to be confident davenners and shlichim tzibbut, messengers of the congregation leading prayer. In a week full of uncertainty it is good to remember that life continues and to celebrate the small things, a tooth, a tomato, a toilet or a Torah. We are still here. We are still alive.

Unity and Diversity In Judaism

One of the things I enjoy about my job as rabbi is explaining Judaism to non-Jews. I have already had opportunities to do so here in Elgin. I hosted a class from Lincolnshire High School studying World Religions. They asked really good questions. Every time I do this kind of thing my own understanding of Judaism gets better. It sharpens my own understanding. Our synagogue is hosting the Elgin Interfaith Thanksgiving Service and some of the clergy and I had a good meeting yesterday. I have been asked to join the trustees of FaithBridge and will be participating in their concert, Sounds of Faith this Sunday. They asked me to speak on Unity and Diversity in Judaism several weeks ago. Here is the presentation that I did for them. It is good because it becomes the first night of my class in December on the many streams of Judaism. I welcome these opportunities. There is much more that unites us than divides us.  UnityandDiversity

Women’s Voices

Tomorrow we read the story of the Tower of Babel. In this story, the men wanted to build a tower so tall that it could reach the heavens and touch G-d. They wanted to make a name for themselves. They wanted to experience directly G-d or they wanted to become like G-d or they wanted to be G-d. G-d punished them by confusing their language, confounding their speech. The building of the tower and the city stopped and people were scattered all over the world. But they were men. Women build too. This week we celebrated Hadassah’s 100th anniversary with the dedication of their new hospital in Jerusalem. Many of my friends were in Israel for the opening. But unfortunately, we still have a problem, both here in the US and in Israel. Is it really possible that one presidential candidate spoke about binders of women? Is it really possible that at that same time, women were being arrested in Israel for disturbing the peace? Their crime–proclaiming the Sh’ma, the watchword of our faith, outloud with too much enthusiasm. What is it about women’s voices that scares men? How did we get to this point where only the very Orthodox control the Western Wall? When the Temple still stood, there was a men’s court, a woman’s court and even a court for the stranger among us. Women sang. Women danced. Women prayed. Women judged. Women taught. Now women can be arrested for singing or wearing a tallit or tefilin. This is nonsense and runs counter to the stories and halacha preserved in the Talmud. Those of us in the United States have an obligation to keep reminding Israel that there are a variety of opinions as to what constitutes acceptable, normative Judaism. We are women will not be silenced as we choose to worship how we want. We will not be intimated by the voices of a few men. We will continue to sing, to dance, to worship and to pray. This is not an issue just for me as a woman, or as a woman rabbi. It is not an issue just for me as a Reform Jew or a Conservative Jew or as a post-denominational Jew. It is an issue for all of us as Jews.
Perhaps as I learned in an email today, Yizhar Hess, Executive Director of the Masorti movement in Israel, put it well when he said: “In all honesty it must be said we have misunderstood our own history. The Kotel was never liberated, rather, it was handed over to the Ministry of Religion and to the Haredim who fully control the area. In a process of exclusion, this national symbol has been turned into an Orthodox synagogue. The women of Hadassah may be good enough to build hospitals but not good enough to pray and sing.”
Let me be perfectly clear, women are good enough to pray and sing, to be rabbis and cantors, to read Torah, to lay tefilin, to worship as Jews. The work of Hadassah to build hospitals and to save lives and the work of Women of the Wall must continue to be applauded and supported. Abraham Joshua Heschel had it right. “Prayercannotmendabrokenbridge,rebuildaruinedcityorbringwater to parched fields. Prayer can mend a broken heart, lift up a discouraged soul and strengthen a weakened will” My prayer this Shabbat is that we continue to build hospitals and we continue to sing and pray–however we see fit as women.

I wish we could take pictures–Simchat Torah

They say that Torah is written with black fire on white fire. The black fire refers to the printed letters, the white fire to the spaces between and around them. Like fire the letters dance and seem to be alive. It is a good image for Simchat Torah, where we read the end of Deuteronomy and the beginning of Genesis and start the cycle all over again. Torah is a dance. A dance between us and the Torah, between us and God. The last letter of the last word is Lamed. The first letter of the first word is bet. Together they spell lev, heart. Together this is a dance of love, of love between God who gave us the Torah and us, between us and our children to whom we pass down this precious legacy. That’s what we did last night.

Sometimes I wish we could take pictures in the heat of the moment. Simchat Torah has always been a favorite of mine. I was enthralled as a college freshman when Rabbi Jeffrey Summitt took us to the Tremont Street Shul in Cambridge, MA. I had never seen such joy. There were probably a thousand people there, dancing in the street under the stars, drinking a l’chaim, parading with flags and apples. The rabbis on the bimah were somehow creating this joy. It was a much needed break after the seriousness of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Then we went to Steve’s Ice Cream afterwards. I wanted to be a part of this. I wanted to create that kind of joy. I decided right then that I wanted to be a rabbi.

Last night I was the rabbi. We did not have a thousand people. But we had people of all ages, from kindergarten and first graders through octogenarians. We davened. I loved the parts where it talks about teaching these very words to our children. That is precisely what we were doing. Creating Jewish memories. Even for some adults. We welcomed the stranger in our midst. We sang. We danced. We carried all eight Torah scrolls, the silver and the flags. We paraded. We circled the sanctuary, we circled the building, we circled the Sukkah. We unrolled the whole Torah. We needed every person to hold it, from the littlest to the oldest. I went around in a circle telling each person what they held. This was my own form of dancing. Everyone had some meaningful piece of Torah they held. Something that they can hold onto all year. Black fire on white fire.

Then we read. A Bar Mitzvah student who will celebrate his Bar Mitzvah a year from now read the very last portion of Deuteronomy. His upcoming portion. He happens to be black. He read for a former president of the congregation. Someone who was born in the community and has been here his whole life. Someone who is starting to struggle with some health issues, who hasn’t understood the direction the congregation thinks it wants to go but who cares passionately. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to come last night. He assured me that my young student was ready, that he had been practicing. He wasn’t sure that he himself was ready or that he would remember the blessings. The blessings came back to him. Watching the president beam at the young boy was the image I wish I could have filmed. The young boy chanted flawlessly in a clear, confident voice. Black fire on white fire.

Then we read the first day of Genesis. One of the newest families chanted the blessing and I read. A new beginning for me and for them. Full circle for me from that day at Tufts. Black fire on white fire.

And then we had ice cream. Chocolate and vanilla. It wasn’t Steve’s but it seemed like more black fire and white fire. A little piece of heaven.

 

Erev Rosh Hashanah, Diversity in Opinion, Being Part of Kneseth Israel

I’m working backwards, but here is what I said on Erev Rosh Hashanah. My new congregation has four pillars to its vision statement, lifelong learning, building community, embracing diversity and meaningful observance.

Rosh Hashanah Evening, 5773

Are we there yet? This is a question that children often ask on long car trips. The Israelites asked it when they were wandering in the desert. No not yet. But we will be there. Eventually.

Take a deep breath. It is Erev Rosh Hashanah. Many members of the congregation have been working tirelessly behind the scenes to make sure we get here. Stephanie and I have worked together and the sense of deep spirituality that emenated from these walls last Friday will be one of my favorite memories of the holidays. May her spirit and her voice lift all of our prayers heavenward.

We’re here—but we are not quite there yet. Let me explain what I mean. During the course of the next 10 days, in fact the next year, you will hear me talk about Congregation Kneseth Israel’s vision. It is what drew me to Elgin because it dovetails nicely with my own. In fact when I first heard about the opening at CKI for a spiritual leader I was on a mini-retreat for my birthday, writing my own vision of what I thought a rabbi should be. By the end of that evening I had filled in my application, and I am delighted to be here, to partner with CKI to make your vision, our vision a reality.

Before we can talk about vision, we need to understand something. What is this whole operation called a synagogue about. Rochelle Fosco, our president read a prayer at the beginning of the service that explains what I think a synagogue should be. A place where anyone who enters is welcomed.

Enters is the key word. The root of the word Kneseth means enters. It also means assembly of those who enter. The very name of this synagogue is important to understanding our vision. Congregation. Kneseth. Israel. The Congregation of the Assembly of Israel. This is the same word that you may know for the Parliament of Israel, the Knesset.

Long before the modern State of Israel, this word, Kneseth is one of the traditional Hebrew names of a synagogue. A Beit Knesset—a House of Assembly. A home. This was the name that explains the function of the synagogue about building community. The Israelites understood that people come to synagogue for three primary reasons, to pray, a Beit Tefilah, to study a Beit Midrash and to be with friends and family in community, a Beit Knesset. This compound word is what we use in modern Israeli Hebrew for a synagogue and a Cnesia is a church, both places we enter and assemble. Synagogues, a loaner word from Greek also meaning assembly, Batei Kneset, were formed when Judaism evolved after the destruction of the Temple from a centralized sacrificial system to one of worship, prayer and study. In early Talmudic times we learn about the men of the Great Assembly, anshei kneseth hagedola.

In fact Pirke Avot, the wisdom of our fathers, opens with this verse:

“Moses received the Torah from Sinai and transmitted it to Joshua; Joshua to the elders; the elders to the prophets; and the prophets handed it down to the men of the Great Assembly, the anshei kneseth hagedola” But the Sanhedrin, the Great Assembly did not last. It was a transitional institution, helping Judaism evolve from a period of revealed miracles and prophecy to one of hidden miracles, prayer and study.

Back in the Second Temple period before its destruction in 70CE, there were 70 different sects of Judaism. We have heard of the Pharisees, the Saducees and the Essenes. But there were as many as 70 different groups—all of whom thought that they had the right way of interpreting Torah and practicing Judaism. One in particular intrigues me—it was a sect of just women. But like the Shakers in the US, they eventually died out naturally and they did not leave written records like the Talmud.. We are taught that part of why the Temple was destroyed was because of baseless hatred, sinat chinam. This is a sin is still included in the alef bet listing of sins we will read together in the next 10 days.

In the Talmud a story is told of Rabbi Akiva that when Moses ascended Mount Sinai, he saw that G-d was putting little ‘crowns’ on the top of the letters in the Torah scroll. Moses asked G-d to explain the meaning of these taggim. G-d explained that in the future a man by the name of Akiva ben Joseph will reveal what these signs mean. Moses wanted to meet this man who knew more than he did. God told Moses to turn around. There was Akiva, teaching many students. Moses sat in the back row and listened Moses was amazed to hear Rabbi Akiva explain that the source of the law he was explaining was from our great teacher, Moses himself. Moses was relieved to hear this but wondered why God would give the Torah through him since Akiva was so knowledgable. (Menachot 29b). We are told that Akiva taught that there are seventy meanings for every letter of Torah, for every crown on those letters.
The Talmud records this kind of back and forth argument between various rabbis, and scholars, sometimes even across the generations. Every opinion was recorded. Every opinion counted. We even have a word for this style of argumentation, pilpul from the root of pepper. It was messy but it was good. It was hard, it still is hard to determine who won any given argument. That is why the codes developed. And responsa literature to answer questions that came up after the codification of the law. That process continues today.
In truth, we are that link in that chain of authority, from Moses to Joshua, from the prophets to the sages, the Men of the Great Assembly, from this generation to the next. We are keepers of the tradition and keepers of the flame and we may wonder like Moses, why us?

Judaism today may look similar to Judaism 2000 years ago. While we speak of Am Yisrael, the people Israel and Klal Yisrael, the entirety of Judaism, there are many divisions within Judaism. There are even disagreements and divisions in our own community. As someone pointed out to me, our synagogue is on Division Street. We all know the story about the Jewish man on the deserted island who had built two synagogues. When finally rescued he was asked why two. He answered so that he would have one he would never go to. At the same time we talk about the many faces of Israel and its pluralism. In this country there are four main streams of Judaism, Orthodox, Reform, Conservative and Reconstructionist. There are Jewish Renewal Jews. Jews who belong to chaverut. Lox and Bagel Jews. Jews who call themselves Secular Humanists or Ethical Culturalists. Jews who come every week and Jews who come just once a year. Jews who like the history and the ethics of Judaism but who don’t, who can’t believe in G-d. Jews who are spiritual but not religious. Jews who will not go to shul ever. Still others when ask say they are just Jewish. Nora Ephron in her last book I Remember Nothing talked about exactly that. When asked what kind of Jew she was she answered, A Jew. The person persisted and wanted to know if she was a German Jew or a Russian Jew. Nora was amazed. And to hear her tell it, it was funny. But there was an edge to the story and it really isn’t so funny.

Do these distinctions matter? Even Nora asked that question. No one way is better than another. At our root we are all just Jews, part of Am Yisrael, Klal Yisrael and Kneeseth Israel. What we want to create here in this space, I hope is a non-judgmental, safe place where all who enter (remember the root) will feel comfortable and welcome, where we can explore our Judaism secure in the knowledge that we will not be judged, mocked, laughed at or bullied, that this is a congregation built on the foundation that senseless hatred, sinat chinam is the antithesis of what we desire, what God desires.

This congregation rests on that very foundation of Judaism. It was formed as an Orthodox congregation, 120 years ago by German Jews. It has had Orthodox, Reform and Conservative rabbis and cantors. It has had instrumental music and a kids choir on Friday night and then no instrumental music. It has had only hechshered Kosher cheese and then non-hechshered cheese and back to hechshered cheese. It has had different rabbis who felt strongly about one halachic position or another. All are within what I would call normative Judaism.

The question becomes, how do we represent the wide diversity that we have here. This congregation has been struggling a little with its identity. Statements and questions I have heard since my demo weekend include: If we are not affiliated with a movement, are we still Conservative? We are still Conservative but we are no longer members of the USCJ. Since we are no longer Conservative can we do x? Now we are Reform. We don’t want to be Reform, they do x, y or z.

When I looked at the focus group reports from the vision committee, it was clear to me that what members of CKI want more than anything else is that sense of community and belonging. That is great. But what distinguishes a Beit Kneseth from a country club, a service organization or another group that any of us belong to?

I think it is in the other functions—in being a Beit Midrash, a house of study and a beit tefilah, a house of prayer. We’ll talk more about those during the next few days and again in the weeks and months to come. For now let me say that is the combination of the three functions that makes this more than a Beit Kneseth, an assembly filled with passionate people who care deeply about their Judaism.

Are any of the terms today relevant? Post denominational? Trans-denominational? Non-denominational? Pluralistic? Unaffiliated? Liberal? Traditional? Conservative? Reform? Diverse? Perhaps my favorite at the moment is independent. Does it matter? Do we need just one word? No one word seems to capture all of it. How do we do any of this without offending anyone?

The High Holiday liturgy lists a series of alphabetical sins that we will recite together in the plural form. More of those sins have to do with our speech than anything else. I would say that as we continue to define ourselves, we need to be careful with our speech. It is good we are passionate and concerned deeply about our Judaism. So am I. However, in our passion, we do not need to inflame or be rude. This extends not only to meetings but also to emails and social networking. So if I have inflamed anything during this debate for that I apologize and do so publicly tonight from the bimah. Every opinion counts here at CKI and needs to be heard. All expressions of Judaism are welcome. Eventually, and soon, I hope we will build a consensus about what we call ourselves.

Today you have a new rabbi. One who was trained at the Academy for Jewish Religion in New York. If you call their office you will hear Sandy Kilstein’s voice on the recorded message warmly greeting all who call. She says, “for over fifty years AJR has been preparing rabbis and cantors to serve klal yisrael in a spiritually vibrant and inclusive way. Our students are of all ages and denominations. At AJR, we believe that all Jews are enriched by all the denominations of Judaism.” We have rabbis and cantors who serve Reform, Conservative, Reconstructionist, renewal and even Orthodox congregations. They serve unaffiliated congregations, teach in universities and day schools, serve in chaplaincy roles. Each of us was required to take a course in pluralism. Yes, that is what it was called. AJR too is evolving. This voice mail message is in the process of being rerecorded to reflect our new location in Yonkers instead of Riverdale. I will be curious to see what the new message is. I set off quite the debate online just trying to get the exact wording of the message. What we are are rabbis and cantors who believe strongly in Klal Yisrael. We believe in meeting Jews where they are.

The Talmud has a phrase, look and see what the people are doing. I am looking and we are doing it. We are actively involved in the process of being Jews. Just Jews. We are a congregation, a synagogue, a shul, a Beit Knesset that … Embraces Diversity, provides Meaningful Worship, Builds Community and offers Lifelong Learning. Come join us. Then it will be a sweet new year for all who gather here! Ken yehi ratzon.

May the door of this synagogue be wide enough
to receive all who hunger for love,
all who are lonely for fellowship.

May it welcome all who have cares to unburden,
thanks to express, hopes to nurture.

May the door of this synagogue be narrow enough
to shut out pettiness and pride, envy and enmity.

May its threshold be no stumbling block
to young or straying feet.

May it be too high to admit complacency,
selfishness, and harshness.

May this synagogue be, for all who enter,
the doorway to a richer and more meaningful life.

The New Mahzor, Prayer Book Press, 1998