Happy Memorial Day seems to be the most common greeting. But happy doesn’t feel like quite the right word. Maybe we are happy in the northern climes that it might feel a little like summer. Maybe we are happy that the kids are out of school or almost, at least here in Chicagoland and time takes on a different pace. 

This day, Memorial Day is set aside to remember those who gave the ultimate sacrifice. Those who died in service to their country, to preserve “The American Way.”  

For years, I marched in Memorial Day parades as a Girl Scout. In Evanston, where one year it even snowed, and we wore ski jackets over our uniforms. In Grand Rapids. In Chelmsford. Our troop in Chelmsford had t-shirts from Kohl’s, “Keep America Beautiful. Plant a tree, Be kind to nature. Conserve Energy. Volunteer.” It has sparkly daisies superimposed over the American flag. This shirt, which I still have and wore this weekend, fits my Girl Scout values, my American values, and yes, my Jewish values. I don’t think it is possible for me to separate them. 

The soldiers who have died protecting our rights came from all sorts of traditions. Black, Hispanic, Native American, from many different countries. The list, of course, includes Jews. There was a powerful piece on CNN done by Dana Bash about correcting a mistake 80 years ago when Jewish soldiers in Italy were buried under crosses. https://www.cnn.com/2025/05/24/world/video/wwii-soldiers-star-of-david-digvid  

Yet at Arlington National Cemetery, there was an attempt earlier this year to clean up history. Jews, Blacks, Women were being removed from the history. https://www.arlingtoncemetery.mil/#/  

They won’t tell you that. But I just double checked. CKI had a member, Captain Irene N. Wirtschafter, who served our country, one of the first women to serve on board a ship during combat during World War II. She is buried at Arlington National Cemetery. Her obituary is here, crossed published in the Chicago Tribune, the Washington Post and Cocoa Beach where she was living at the time of her death. https://www.chicagotribune.com/obituaries/irene-wirtschafter-chicago-il/  

She was a true woman of valor and deserves to be remembered this Memorial Day.  

A member of our community who grew up with Captain Wirtschafter has visited the grave at Arlington and you can find it listed here: https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/search?firstname=Irene&middlename=&lastname=Wirtschafter&birthyear=&birthyearfilter=&deathyear=&deathyearfilter=&location=United+States+of+America&locationId=country_4&bio=&linkedToName=&plot=&memorialid=&mcid=&datefilter=&orderby=r  

But you can no longer find it on the Arlington site. It comes up empty, no results. There is a plaque for her at CKI, and we read her name this Shabbat. She deserves to be remembered this Memorial Day. 

This year Memorial Day seems especially fraught. I did follow the advice of my t-shirt. I planted. I gardened. I spent time in nature. I made sure our flags were flying. I wore the t-shirt.  

Sometimes it is hard to talk about politics—or better said partisanship. In 2018, the Chicago Jewish Board of Education published a list, “Jewish Values, Civil Discourse, Turbulent Times. I come back to it again and again: 

• Humility 

• Loving rebuke 

• Common decency 

• Repairing the world 

• Judging others fairly 

• Keep far from false charges 

• The law of the land is the law 

• Argument for the sake of heaven 

• Do not side with the mighty for evil 

• Do not separate yourself from the community 

• Do not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor 

Those are all core concepts, core values, key commandments in Judaism. I stand by them.  

This past week I did an invocation for the Elgin Township Board. It was their swearing in ceremony. I read the Prayer for our Country in Siddur Sim Shalom. Words that were originally written in the 1950s in more formal language and rewritten in 1985, We have been praying for our leaders since Jeremiah’s day. This week I had a member read it as we always do on Shabbat morning. She was very emotional. I reminded people that it has always been aspirational.  

I’ve said this before. George Washington wrote a letter to the Jewish community of Newport, RI. His letter is aspirational, too. He said, “For happily the Government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance…: “To bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance” are the words on the entrance to the US Holocaust Museum in Washington DC. This week we watched in horror as a young couple was attacked and murdered outside another Jewish museum in Washington. There are no words. And no thoughts and prayers for me to express the gravity of this slaying. 

Yet Washington closed his letter with a quote from the prophet Micah: “while every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and figtree, and there shall be none to make him afraid.” It was aspirational when Micah said it. It was aspirational when Washington wrote it. It remains aspirational today. That is the America that I want to live in. That is the America I heard as I was gardening on my deck listening to the birds. Keep America Beautiful is where we started this. 

This was also Yom Yerushalylim, the day that Jerushalem was reunified during the Six Day War. Who can forget the images of Israeli soldiers weeping when they reached the Wsetern Wall. Part of my day included rereading My Promised Land by Ari Shavit. And that gardening? I am putting in an Israeli salad garden: tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers.

May this be a meaningful Memorial Day, filled with promise and hope and a commitment to our soldiers who have died that we might enjoy a parade, a picnic or a barbecue. And may we embrace a time when we can engage in civil discourse in order to work for that promise, where we do not live in fear. Remember, it’s aspirational. And we have to work for it.

Today’s Torah reading is another double portion. It begins with the complicated ritual of Yom Kippur. These two goats, one of whom is spared, one of whom goes off a cliff with all our sins on it. It was how we sought forgiveness. In later rabbinic literature we learn that for sins against one another Yom Kippur does not atone, only for those sins against G-d. (Yoma 8:8-9). It can be more complicated to seek forgiveness from our fellow humans than from G-d sometimes. It can be more difficult to accept apologies from our fellow humans as well. We’ll come back to that.  

Next, we move into the central portion of Torah. A section called the holiness code. It begins “Speak to the whole Israelite community and say to them: You shall be holy for I the Lord your G-d am Holy.” What does it mean to be holy? The dictionary tells us “dedicated or consecrated to God or a religious purpose; sacred.” In Hebrew, kadosh has the sense of special or set apart.  

What follows then is a list of how we become holy. It sounds almost like a repetition of the 10 Commandments. The very first one is “You shall each revere your mother and your father, and keep My sabbaths: I יהוה am your God.” 

 How perfect to have this verse this Mother’s Day weekend. You may notice something here. In the Exodus version, it is you should honor your father and your mother. And the verb is honor, not revere. The rabbis notice this. Of course, they notice this. What is the difference?  

In the 10 Commandments we are told to honor our fathers—to hold him in high esteem, respect. The verb cabad, is the same one we use in Kol hakavod, all the honor, well done. It is the same noun as liver, because it has a sense of heaviness, seriousness. It is the verb that the Torah uses when G-d hardens Pharaoh’s heart. Examples of how we show kavod to our parents is by getting up when a parent walks into a room.  

In today’s version, the verb tira’u comes from yireh, to fear or revere. In our house, we debate this difference often. I don’t want to fear G-d. Or frankly my mother. I prefer the softer term revere. Simon would point out that this form of fear is more like awe, that sense of fear and trembling. Our rabbi, Rabbi Neil Kominsky settled it for us. It is both, fear and revere. As it is said, it expresses “a reverential awe and deep respect.” That settled it for us, but we still joke about it.  

This is Mother’s Day Weekend. It is a day I have always loved, and my own mother most certainly demanded we celebrate. It is not just a Hallmark made up concept and she was well aware of its history.  

In 1870, Julia Ward Howe, author of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” wrote the “Mother’s Day Proclamation” as a response to the Civil War. Howe’s “Mother’s Day for Peace” was celebrated in 1872. Women, Mothers in particular, did not want to sacrifice one more son to war. The first Mother’s Day after my mother died found me outside the White House demonstrating for peace. It seemed like the right way to honor my mother’s memory. Tomorrow I will find some way to work for peace.  

And yet, I am aware that Mother’s Day in our modern world is at best complicated. My first understanding of that was as a young stepmother. We took my young stepdaughter out for brunch after Hebrew School, and the waitress complimented me on her good behavior. She assumed she was my daughter. It was awkward and cut both of us to our cores.  

The longer I’ve been a rabbi, I know that people often struggle with Mother’s Day. Some of you may be in this room. People who have lost their moms, recently or long ago. People who are struggling with infertility. People who have lost a child. People who are estranged from a child. People who struggle with the relationship they have with their mothers. People whose mothers may have actually abused them. And men who are solo parents. Some people just want to hide under the covers until all the hoopla has passed. That’s OK. We see you.  

Can we then think about this commandment, to fear our mothers (and our fathers) as a way to holiness? Are we really commanded to do this? Of course, there are those who think every day should be mother’s day.  

 Later in the parsha, we learn, “You shall not hate your kinsfolk in your heart. Reprove your kin but incur no guilt on their account. You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against members of your people. Love your fellow [Israelite] as yourself: I am יהוה.” 

A grudge is a persistent feeling of ill will or resentment resulting from a past insult or injury. My father was a grudge holder, and proud of it. He could not buy a German product as part of that. I am sure almost 30 years after his death he is still angry at the youth group advisor who was mean to me. I have forgotten most of those details. Or the Catholic priest who went camping with my Girl Scout troop who thought in order for me to remain part of that troop I needed to convert to Catholicism. Those are just a couple of examples.  

But let’s go back to the beginning of our portion. Somehow those goats were about achieving forgiveness. Holding onto a grudge, onto that anger, onto that resentment prevents us from being holy. But letting go of it is difficult.  

We are told that we need to seek reconciliation and forgiveness three times. If the person we’ve injured does not forgive then it is on them. 

Often, I am asked if someone needs to forgive their mother, for little hurts or bigger ones. I can’t tell you that you need to forgive your mother (or your father).  

Sometimes I am even asked if they need to go to the funeral of a mom who hurt them. Rabbi Harold Kushner, of blessed memory, explains in his book that you can go to the funeral and mourn the relationship you wish you had had. You may not want them to “rent space in your head.” Sometimes the forgiveness is more for them than for you. And sometimes it is impossible to forgive. You must feel safe before forgiveness can happen. Sometimes it is like an onion, with layers and layers. And sometimes as with grief, it takes time.  

Revere or fear your mother and your father. If you are missing them, whether you lost them recently or long ago. Whether they were perfect or not. Whether they live near you or far away. Whether you will be together with them or not.  

I am a sucker for flowers, cards, and brunch or dinner out. I often run a 5K where I receive a t-shirt that says momstrong, which fits with our discussion last night of Eshet Hayil, a Woman of Valor, or Courage, one who is strong and whose children rise up and call her blessed.JTF_Forgiveness_infographic  

May you each enjoy the weekend, whether you are curled up under the covers or outside with family in this glorious spring weather.  

There are 50 days between the Second Night of Passover and Shavuot, which this year begins the evening of June 1. For many years I have taken on a personal project. Some years it has been as simple as remembering to buckle my seat belt, or unpacking one box a day. (That one isn’t simple!). One year I finished the draft of a book.  

Traditionally these seven weeks (7×7=49) are about the sefirot, the mystical emanations of the Divine. Those are based on the 13 Attributes of the Divine that were part of my Bat Mitzvah Torah portion which happened during Pesach 51 years ago. The first one is chesed. Lovingkindess. Each day you pair up one attribute with another. The first day is chesed shel chesed, lovingkindness of lovingkindness. That’s alot of love. Today, the seventh day, therefore, using a traditional schema  is Malchut of chesed.   

Tonight is the beginning of the second week. And it is Chesed shel Gevurah, Lovingkindness of Discipline or Strength. But this year I want to try something different. With so much going on in the world, I want to keep focusing on chesed all 50 days. Can we do it? What is your favorite quote, Biblical or otherwise about love? Can we make the world a better place by focusing on lovingkindness? What illustrations go with this? Who else is counting? We know that Alden Solovy is. Rabbi Jill Hammer is, using Biblical women. Chabad is. Rabbi Lisa Bellows is.  

Can we come up with an action each day that illustrates chesed, gemilut chasadim?  

This year has been tough. On so many levels, not the least of which was being in the hospital when we started counting. Some say that if you interrupt the counting, it’s all over. I am choosing to begin again. It is not all over. Begin again.  

There is a tradition that the Israelites stood at the shores of the sea of reeds on the 7th day of Passover.  We read the Song at the Sea today. This service is so long that I skipped my remarks. Here is what I would have said today.

Today we stand on the brink. We are on the shores of the Sea of Reeds. In front of us a wall of water, beautiful but we don’t know how we can get across it. Behind us we can hear the thundering footstep of Pharaoh’s approaching, chasing army. What should we do? What can we do? Each of us just experienced a miracle. We were brought out of Egypt, out of the narrow places, with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. Now the fear is palpable. Is this the end? Why would Moses bring us here? We might be better off back in Egypt. People are starting to rumble. Oh no!  

Then GOD said to Moses, “Why do you cry out to Me? Tell the Israelites to go forward. And you lift up your rod and hold out your arm over the sea and split it, so that the Israelites may march into the sea on dry ground… Then Moses held out his arm over the sea and GOD drove back the sea with a strong east wind all that night, and turned the sea into dry ground. The waters were split. 

It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t a slam dunk as they say in the basketball world. Yes, Moses held up his staff. And it took time. It wasn’t a Charleston Heston moment or a Val Kilmar one. The people were hesitant. Yet one guy, Nachson ben Aminidav, waded into the water. First a toe. Then up to his nostrils. The story appears both in the midrash and the Talmud. (Mechilta, Beshalach 5; Pirkei d’Rabbi Eliezer 42; Exodus Rabbah 13; and others. Sotah 37a.) 

This story should inspire us. It inspired King David who wrote,“I have sunk in muddy depths, and there is no place to stand; I have come into the deep water, and the current has swept me away . . . Let not the current of water sweep me away, nor the deep swallow me, and let the well not close its mouth over me.” (Psalms 69:3, 16) 

We will not be swept away. We will be like Nachson and act. 

Rabbi Menachem Schneerson, known as The Rebbe saw Nachshon’s deed as a call to action: “One fellow named Nachshon jumped into the sea, and caused the great miracle of the Splitting of the Sea. Technically, he was under no obligation to do so. But he knew that G‑d wanted Israel to move onward toward Sinai. So he did what he needed to do. There was a sea in his way. So he jumped into the sea and plowed on toward his goal. “The lesson for all of us is that we must stay focused on our life’s mission, disregarding all obstacles.” ((From a talk on 10 Shevat 5716)  Chabad adds, “Nachshon’s name has become synonymous with courage and the will to do the right thing, even when it’s not popular.” 

The Rev. Ginny McDaniel once asked me how the Jewish people see freedom. She was wrestling with whether prize freedom from something or for something. Those little prepositions mean a lot. In this country we are guaranteed by the Bill of Rights, the first 10 Amendments to the Constitution certain freedoms. That could be an important discussion today as our friends in Boston re-enact the battle from Boston to Lexington and Concord. You remember the poem, “Listen my children and you shall hear of the midnight ride of Paul Revere. On the 18th of April in ‘75. Hardly a man is now alive to remember that famous day and year.” What were those patriots, those minutemen fighting for? What do we all fight for?  

One of those rights is to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That got codified in the Constitution and the amendments. The first amendment in the Bill of Rights says. “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.” We talk about that as freedom of religion.  

Simon’s haggadah has this quote, probably from Chaim Stern. It still resonates, maybe even more so this year: 

“Tonight, we participate as members of multiple communities. As Jews, the Exodus is our heritage, a equality, justice and peace are our dreams… 
Freedom from bondage and freedom from oppression 
Freedom from hunger and freedom from want 
Freedom from hatred and freedom from fear 
Freedom to think and freedom to speak 
Freedom to teach and freedom to learn 
Freedom to love and freedom to share 
Freedom to hope       and freedom to rejoice 
Soon, in our days Amen.” 

That’s how I answered Ginny.  

Freedom. We talked about it some last night. For those gathered it includes freedom to drive and freedom to travel. Freedom to assemble and freedom to speak one’s mind. For me it includes freedom to run and freedom to swing on a swing. Moshe Dayan said: “Freedom is the oxygen of the soul.” 

Passover is a very layered tradition. I’ve been thinking about that all week. The kids who helped in the kitchen this week will no doubt remember that all the days of their life. During Torah Study I told the story of my mother stealing, yes stealing apple sauce from Chute Middle School because the North Shore School of Jewish Studies had forgotten about charoset. No one will forget this year, or the year my father was in the hospital and he sent a telegram as Elijah.  

We are commanded to remember what the Lord did for us when we went forth from Egypt. To get the children to ask why. Why are we doing this? Why is this night different. And even in our most joyous moments, Passover, Shavuot, Sukkot and yes, Yom Kippur we add yizkor which we will do shortly. We remember. We remember that even in their haste, Moses remembered to take the bones of Joseph with him.  

We stand on the brink. When we got to the other side, because of G-d, Moses and Nachson, we sang.  

Mekhilta teaches us that while Ezekiel and Isaiah had visions of the Divine, “even a slave woman at the shore of the sea, saw directly the power of the Almighty in splitting the sea. All recognized in that instant their personal redemption and therefore all of them opened their mouths to sing in unison. 

Rabbi Sandy Sasso has just written a delightful children’s book. Miriam’s Dancing Shoes. It begins “It was time. Time to leave Egypt. Time for slavery to end. Time to be free.” But the people were not quite ready. They complained. About everything. But not Miriam. She carried a timbrel and her DANCING SHOES.! I have often wondered about this. Of all the things I could grab, I am not sure I would remember my tambourine! They followed her and her dancing shoes and the jingle of her tambourine. Think about that the next time we shake the rimonim putting away the Torah. She explained to Moses, that this is the song of hope. This is the song of freedom.  

“Then Miriam the prophetess, Aaron’s sister took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dancing. And Miriam chanted for them, “Sing to the Lord, who has triumphed gloriously. Horse and rider were thrown into the sea.” 

We stand on the brink. And we must learn to sing again. Whether it is in the voice of Val Kilmar , of blessed memory and the others in Prince of Egypt https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ocOs1zes4IA  or Debbie Friedman in “Miriam’s Song” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZdSEsZ8bMo  or https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-olta6pVKIn  

Freedom requires that we take responsibility. As Central Synagogue reminds us that Martin Buber said, “The world needs redemption as an act of grace, and our responsibility is to make it worthy through our actions and beliefs,”  

So we stand on the brink. We put our toe in the water as Nachson did. As the Rebbe urges us or as another Menachem, Rabbi Menachem Creditor urges:  

“So go we must. Not alone. Not leaving anyone behind. When Pharaoh asked, “Who will go with you?” Moses replied, “Our elders and our children, our sons and our daughters.” Everyone. 

Freedom means everyone. 

And let me say it plainly: if we call it freedom but we’ve left someone behind—someone poor, someone disabled, someone forgotten, someone who looks or loves or prays differently—it’s not freedom. Not in the Jewish sense. Not in the holy sense. Not the kind we sing about at our Seders. 

I want no blood on my door if it means someone else must suffer. I want no celebration if it means someone else is left mourning. Yes, we sometimes must fight for freedom—but never with joy for the fight itself. Never with pride in the pain. 

So this is my promise, and I invite you to make it with me: 

I will step into the sea. 

I will not do it alone. 

I will hold the hand of someone who needs me, and I will let others hold mine. 

I will remember that my freedom is meaningless unless it includes yours. 

I will stand in the breach, even when I’m afraid, because faith demands courage before certainty. 

And when I pray, I will listen for the echo of my own voice telling me what I must do. 

The sea is waiting, friends. The wind has begun to blow. The moment is upon us. 

Let’s show up for each other. 

Let’s split the sea—together.” 

Giant waves parting the sea isolated on white, 3d render.

This portion gives me hope. I will join with Nachson, with Miriam, with that lowly bond woman, with both Menachem’. Together we will split the sea and come out on the other side. Joyously.  

This was not the Passover we dreamed of or planned for six months. It was in fact Passover. Here are my reflections from the day after being released from a 0 pressure room measuring 9×12. 

We had set out to do a Community Seder with a theme of Passover Around the World. We have members that come from 17 foreign countries (don’t make me name them all!), it would be more interactive than some, and it would interest the children in such a way to sit up, take notice and ask “Why?” Why is this night different? Why are we doing this? It is a way to tell the story. 

Then we welcomed Beth Tikvah Congregation and I enjoyed working with Cantorial Ilana Axel to plan what we hoped would be a meaningful and joyous celebration. And the music would be great too.  

We ordered a new-to-the congregation Haggadah that would be both modern and ancient, contain the traditional elements and enough transliteration to make it accessible to all—young and old. We planned an international menu and ordered international, kosher for Passover wines from the Men’s Club wine sale. I did most of the shopping, running into many (male) rabbis shopping for their community seders. The tables were set. They were beautiful. We learned that in Hungry and Austria people decorated the tables with jewelry because the Israelite women did not give up their gold for the golden calf. My daughter and I had started cooking. Hard boiled eggs, matzah ball soup, Asparagus Nicoise (recipe to follow).  

We went home to take a break and to “sell” the remaining chametz. Sarah did not like the looks of a rash, that the day before we all thought (including the docs) was contact dermatitis. We called my physicians. One made a 4PM Friday afternoon appointment available. The next thing I knew I was being sent to Advocate Lutheran General. We cancelled Friday night services on the way to the hospital. OY. 

As it turns out I had disseminated shingles. I could write volumes on that alone. For five days I was in a zero pressure room at the hospital that was 9×12. There are people who are really prisoners, who are really hostages, captives, slaves. One of the most powerful seders I have ever conducted was at Elgin Mental Health (a forensic jail essentially) with an inmate who was a PhD candidate at the University of Chicago in political science but who had “snapped.” We had both read Exodus and Revolution prior to the seder. (Worth the read everyone! Especially in these times.) But at the end of that seder, I walked out of that jail. He did not, although he eventually was able to.  

I get though a lot of life on my humor. It isn’t always easy. But there is an important truth to Passover. Each of us is to see ourselves as if we ourselves were rescued, redeemed, out of Egypt, out of the narrow places. This was my narrow place. How was I going to celebrate? How was I going to get out. The truth lay in the room service menu and a zoom link! That zoom view enabled me to have two intensely spiritual moments. 1. We did it. We got 85 people in the room to celebrate Passover. Wow! Even without me. The congregation really pulled together and made it happen. It was a powerful moment for me—and I hope for them. 2. The shehechianu prayer which praises G-d for keeping us alive and sustaining us and enabling us to reach this moment has always been powerful. There have been times when it wasn’t clear that I or a loved one or even the world would be here. And yet, for now at least, I am. Hineini. I cried. I let the tears flow. Really. Those of you who know me well know I don’t cry often.  

So the menu—i ordered what I could so I could follow along. It is true that Lutheran General has a kosher cabinet. And I am told that there were kosher for Passover tv dinners but no one knew where. They did know that there was matzah. So I ordered: 

• Matzah 

• Egg and salt 

• Grape juice 

• Apple sauce and raisins (think charoset) 

• A fruit plate (it had parsley, arugula and romaine) 

• And an orange—of course I would find an orange. 

So it is possible, with a little creativity to celebrate Passover anywhere. On a mountain top. At a synagogue. In a home. In a concentration camp or a tunnel. And yes, even in a 9×12 isolation room. It was amazing to follow along (at least until their dinner). And amazing the next night at the house, where I could participate as well—mostly. The discussion was excellent. This all brings me hope.  

All I can say to all who stepped up—thank you.  

I had written out a script to go with our new haggadah. What follows is an edited version:  

Passover is both ancient and modern. It is a layered telling of a historical event. In order to help prepare you for the Community Seder this weekend. We won’t be using all of them. 

As we begin the seder singing the song of the order of the seder we use an ancient Babylonian melody that Ilana will lead.  

In Turkey, as part of the Maggid, the doorbell may ring, and someone dressed in Middle Eastern garb enters. The dialogue may be, “Where are you coming from?” And the answer is “From the land of Egypt.” And where are you going? To the land of Israel. Cheers may erupt. Let’s see what happens. 

Jews in Tunisia do not use a seder plate; instead, the ritual foods that are otherwise found on a seder plate are placed into a reed basket, to remind us of Moses being placed in a basket as an infant. The matriarch of the house then takes the reed basket and hovers it over each guest’s head. The matriarch says, “We left Egypt.” The guest replies, “Yesterday, we were slaves. Today, we are free. This year, we are here. Next year, we will be free people in the land of Israel.” 

For Karpas, the green leafy hint of spring, dipped in salt water, we will use the parsley that the Torah School grew plus some Italian flat leaf parsley. In Ukraine, they use a potato. That is what was available.   

When we break the middle matzah for Yachatz, there are many traditions. Does the leader hide it? Do the kids? Let all who are hungry come and eat. We sing Halachma, written in Aramaic.. 

In India, for the Four Questions, the kid would hold the seder plate while asking the questions. The 3 matzahs would represent the Kohanim, Leviim and the Israelites and  would be marked with 1 2 or 3 lines. Maybe with a sharpie? And there would be 12 pieces of matzah, one for each of the 12 tribes.  In Mumbai, India, Jews mimic the Passover lamb’s blood that was smeared across the entrances to Israelite homes in Egypt on the eve of their liberation. The Indian Jews would dip their hands in the blood of a sheep or goat. Then, they press their hands to blank pieces of paper and hang the prints above their doorway. The imprint resembles a hamsa and like the amulet,  and symbolizes good luck and protection. Our Torah School kids did this project, not with actual blood but with red paint as a banner we hung over the door. 

In Israel, on a kibbutz, the seder is more like a school play that the kids rehearse. And there is a difference in the Four Questions: 

Why is this night from all other nights? 

On all other nights we eat either chamtz or matzah
On this night we eat only matzah. 

On all other night we eat sitting or reclining 

Tonight we all recline. 

On all other nights we eat a quick meal 

Tonight, the meal is longer and it’s a night for staying awake. 

On all other nights we talk about things in general 

On this night we talk about the exodus from Egypt. 

Jewish communities in Morocco recite a similar dialogue; however, Moroccan Jews use a seder plate rather than a reed basket. 

In Iran and Afghanistan, just before Dayenu, they use scallions to actually whip people sitting next to them as though they were slaves. before Dayenu. 

There are many different charoset recipes, each reflecting Jews around the world. As part of the appetizers, please enjoy the different tastes. Some say that the “recipe” for charoset comes from Song of Songs, which is read on Passover. A booklet of international recipes will be distributed to you for your dining pleasure next year, as your seder favor.  

What else is on the seder plate. Orange, olives. A beet. Sometimes we add a coffee bean or chocolate. 

This year we add a lemon to remember the hostages, still held in captivity..

 So tonight, we have talked about traditions in 12 countries and tasted the food or wine of six more. We hope that this has enriched your celebration and help to make you feel connected to Jews throughout the United States and around the world.   Next year in Jerusalem. Next year all the world redeemed.

Asparagus Nicoise Recipe 

2 pounds asparagus, trimmed 

2 Tbl. red wine vinegar 

2 tsp. Dijon mustard (I omit some year) 

2⁄3 cup olive oil 

2 shallots minced (or green onion) 

2 plum tomatoes, diced 

1⁄3 cup Niçoise olive, diced (Or canned Israeli) 

1 Tbl. drained capers (harder to find for Passover) 

Cook asparagus in large pot of boiling water until just tender, about five minutes. Drain. Transfer to serving platter. 

Whisk vinegar and mustard in small bowl. Gradually whisk in oil. Mix in shallots, tomatoes, olives and capers. 

Season to taste with salt and pepper. 

Pour over asparagus and serve. Can be served chilled, room temperature or hot. 

 Margaret Frisch Klein from Nelle S. Frisch from an old Bon Appetit. 

A teaching in memory of my mother who died on Election Day in 2008 and in honor of my husband, the election judge.  

Let me be clear. I live in a purple county, I work in a purple county and I work for a synagogue that is a 501 3c that is a purple non-profit. I understand my role. I cannot tell someone who to vote for. Full stop. But I can tell you to go vote. That is your voice. And your voice is needed. It is precisely the message that JUF sent out to all of its donors and I sent to my congregation on Purim. It matches the message of Mordechai to Esther. Perhaps you are in this time and place just for this reason. “Fierce like Esther” is what my coffee mug says. 

Let me be clear. I am a rabbi. That means that I teach. All day every day, from our youngest Chai Babies with fun music to our senior seniors with what the Torah and haftarah texts say. Everything I teach whether it is “arcane” halachah about how to observe Passover to how to sit shiva (or not) to the blessings over every day occurrences, it all goes back to text and Jewish values. 

That leads to a question. What is a Jewish value? Things that the text tells us we should do or that we should be. They are the central, core principles, the moral fiber of living a Jewish life. It’s how we do Jewish. 

These are unprecedented times. Whether you are worried about the Middle East, Israel and the hostages in particular, Ukraine, peace in other places or losing a job or money in your retirement accounts, health of yourself, friends and family or you a mourning the loss of loved ones, there is plenty to make people scared and anxious. 

Many people are searching what they can do and where the moral leadership might be. They look for that kind of leadership in their religious leaders, whether Jewish, Christian, Muslim. They don’t always agree. You may not be agreeing with this. That’s OK. Argue with me. Politely. Civilly. 

We had just such a discussion this weekend. Our prayerbook, Siddur Sim Shalom, like many Jewish prayer books has a prayer for our country. We have been praying for our leaders since Jeremiah’s day. Wherever we have lived. How ever they have treated Jews. The words vary some by decade, by location, by need. One of my favorites is the one that the Jewish congregation of Richmond, VA wrote for Washington that spells out Washington as an acrostic as part of the prayer. Another one prays for the King of England. Not Charles, but Elizabth’s father! Charles may need prayers for healing from what I am seeing in the news. And we have recently prayed for the Pope, even though he is not our leader per se.  

I have written extensively about our prayers for healing, specifically Mi Sheberach. And we ask people to pray for whom they are concerned about. That could be someone with a sniffle, with COVID, with a chronic disease, in the hospital, at home, in rehab. It is a prayer to support those who need healing of mind, body and spirit. So, it encompasses those with mental health issues and those with physical ailments. It helps those offering the prayer or those who may not even know we are praying for them. We have prayed for victims of Katrina and other hurricanes, for IDF soldiers, for hostages, for Gazans, for refugees. For the world at large. The world does need a lot of healing. I don’t see this as political. I see  them reflective of Jewish values.  

Let’s go back to trying to define Jewish values.  

Some would cite Micah, “What does the Lord require of you: Only to do justly, love mercy and walk humbly, modestly with your G-d.” Seems simple, no?  

Or some would cite the holiness code, Leviticus 19, which says, “You shall be holy for I the Lord your G-d am holy.” It goes on to spell out ways to set up a civil society. Revere your mother and your father. Don’t put a stumbling block before the blind or curse the deaf. Don’t stand idly by while your neighbor bleeds. Don’t hold a grudge. Do not withhold the wages of your laborer. Have just weights and measures. Above all, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” 

Or some would argue that we should be like G-d. In the Talmud we learn, “Rabbi Ḥama bar Ḥanina taught that the passage commanding us to walk with God (Devarim 13:5) cannot be understood literally because God is an all-consuming fire (see Devarim 4:24). Rather we must understand this to mean that we should follow in the way of God, emulating His deeds. For example: 

• Just as G-d clothed the naked (Bereshit 3:21), so we should clothe the naked. 

• Just as G-d visited the sick (Bereshit 18:1), we should visit the sick. 

• Just as G-d comforted those in mourning (Bereshit 25:11), we should comfort those in mourning. 
• Just as G-d buried the dead (Devarim 34:6), we should bury the dead.  (Sotah 14ab) 

This text mirrors other Jewish texts like the famous Isaiah haftarah from Yom Kippur that argues that G-d isn’t especially interested in our fast. Rather it is to unlock the fetters of wickedness, untie the cords of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free…to share your bread with the hungry, to take the poor into your home, and when you see the naked, to clothe them. “ (Isaiah 58:6-7) 

These are my marching orders. I take them very seriously. I spent Saturday afternoon walking a 5K to feed the hungry and house the unhoused. As part of cleaning the CKI kitchen for Passover, I took our leftover whole breads and delivered them to the micro pantry at Holy Trinity. They were gone before I left CKI for the evening. I met with a bride and groom this morning. I helped someone find access to medical care. I am living out my Jewish values. I am doing something. Little bits every day.  

Do is a very interesting verb. It one of the most used one in American English. Hi, there, how are you doing? What do you do? How do you do? The list goes on and on. Sometimes we need to stop doing and just be. That’s part of what Shabbat is. The pause that refreshes so that then we can continue doing. At CKI we have a political free zone. We don’t talk politics per se. And there is an important difference between politics and partisanship. What we really mean is partisanship. Remember, I can’t endorse a candidate, have a sticker on my car, or a lawn sign. But I can teach about Jewish values, morals and ethics.  

One year as part of our Shavuot Tikkun Leil Shavuot we looked at all the texts around chesed, lovingkindness. Because ultimately, if we are emulating G-d. It all comes down to lovingkindness, compassion and empathy. Here is the text we signed as a group: 

The Israelites
gathered at the foot of Mount Sinai said “We will do and we will hear.” Even before they knew what was in it, they agreed.  

On this, the 6th of Sivan 5779 as we reckon time in Elgin, IL, we, the members of Congregation Kneseth Israel are standing again at Mount Sinai ready to receive the Torah as a sign of our covenant with the Holy One. We promise to engage in 

Lifelong Learning 

• To attend the house of study  

• To learn and to teach with our adults and children 

• To teach our children diligently 

Meaningful Observance  

• To pray with sincerity 

• To remember and keep Shabbat
  To rejoice with bride and groom 

• To console the bereaved  

• To celebrate lifecycle events and holidays 

• To maintain a kosher kitchen 

Building Community 

• To honor our fathers and mothers 

• To perform acts of love and kindness 

• To visit the sick 

• To host gatherings for men and women and children 

• To be warm and welcoming to all who enter 

Embracing Diversity 

• To recognize that everyone is created in the image of G-d, b’tzelem elohim
  To love our neighbors as ourselves 

• To welcome the stranger  

• To provide hospitality to all who enter 

• To not put a stumbling block before the blind or curse the deaf 

• To provide a safe, non-judgmental space for all to learn, celebrate and grow 

• To make peace where there is strife 

And the study of Torah equal to them all, because it leads to them all. 

“Ours is not to finish the task, neither are we free to ignore it.” Pirke Avot 2:21 

Witnessed and signed this day of Shavuot, 5779 by 

Tomorrow some of you have an opportunity to vote. That is priceless. It hasn’t always been true wherever we have lived as Jews. We haven’t been considered citizens. Go exercise your right to vote and vote your Jewish values. That is something you most certainly can do. Then figure out how to feed the hungry, house the unhoused, clothe the naked, welcome the stranger, love your neighbor as yourself. Those need doing too.   

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It’s cloud illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all
Joni Mitchell

Today’s portion has something to teach us about clouds. And G-d’s very presence.  

Cantor Robin Joseph, a graduate of the Academy for Jewish Religion, a former president of ARC and someone who has been in her pulpit for 44 years, reminded me of this song and this metaphor with her D’var Torah this week: 

“Clouds are—what? The presence of God? A cover for God? A signal from God? In Parashat Pekudei, they are D) All of the above. And then some. 

One cloud in particular makes a brief, but spectacular, cameo appearance as the curtain comes down on the second “act” (Book) of the Five Books of Moses. Not just any cloud, not just a cloud, but The Cloud (הֶעָנָ֖ן). As much a supporting actor in the Torah as anyone (or anything) else, I’m continually surprised not to see the word “cloud” capitalized in the English translation whenever the article “the” precedes it. 

This is not the first time that The Cloud has made an appearance in the Torah. 

As early as in the Book of Genesis, when God makes a covenant, a Brit, with Noah to never again destroy the earth by flood, God sets God’s “bow in the cloud.” [Gen. 9:13] 

And it will not be the last. One example is later in the Book of Numbers, The Cloud will withdraw from Miriam and Aaron’s confrontation with Moses and leave Miriam stricken with white scales. [Num. 12:10] The list of Cloud sightings goes on. “The Cloud” appears close to one hundred times in the Torah; it is no “bit part.” 

In this parashah, The Cloud’s entrance is grand and its powers are absolute. 

It covers, it settles, it lifts (or doesn’t lift) and it rests. It is animated in a way which belies its ephemeral qualities. It accompanies God’s presence in the wilderness as an emissary of the Divine. Or is it, perhaps, Divine in and of itself?” 

She goes on to connect the Torah’s understanding of cloud to the ancient Greeks: 

https://ajr.edu/parashat-pekudei-5785/ 

Rabbi Toba Spitzer asks similar questions in her book, God is Here. “How do we foster a sense of closeness—to one another to our community, to Jewish practice—when we can’t be physically close.” She was writing this in the middle of the pandemic, when congregations pivoted to Zoom or some streaming platform. People were feeling isolated. They didn’t know how they could draw close to one another, or frankly to G-d. She comes to some of the same conclusions as Cantor Jospeh. “With the metaphor of Cloud, the biblical authors found a way to convey a sense of nearness to Something close that cannot be touched.” 

She talks about fog obscuring things from view but can also make something that is usually invisible visible. She also references Joni Mitchel’s song “Both Sides Now.”  

She talks about hiking and being surrounded by fog. Simon and I have hiked much. In one of those first hikes, we climbed Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park. It is the first part of the United States that sees sunrise. It was a hard climb, and it seemed we wouldn’t reach the summit by sunrise. Yet there was a bank of fog on the horizon, and the sun was taking longer to crest the horizon out on the Atlantic. I famously said, “I don’t think the sun will rise.” Simon thought it was a lack of faith on my part. Of course, the sun rose. It passed through that cloud bank brilliantly and we sat on the side of the mountain singing Shacharit out of the siddur we had carefully carried up in our backpack while eating some breakfast snacks. 

There is a famous quote written by some annonymous Jew on a wall in Cologne, Germany, during World War II: 

“I believe in the sun
even when it is not shining
And I believe in love,
even when there’s no one there.
And I believe in God,
even when He is silent. 

Even though he or she couldn’t see the sun or G-d, still they believed. Even if the clouds obscure the sun, still the sun is there. Even if The cloud blocks our vision of G-d, still G-d is there. That brings me hope.  

I love flying. OK—I don’t like turbulence. But once you clear the clouds, looking down on the clouds is a great time to think or write. Sometimes it even leads to a spiritual experience. I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now.  

I love prairie clouds. OK–I don’t like the severe weather that sometimes comes with them. Be weather aware this weekend. But when I am out for a walk, I love the large expansive spaces, the towering clouds, the play of light and dark. They keep me grounded. It can be a spiritual experience, And I have even dreamed of crafting a book of photos of those clouds. I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now.

Often times clouds seem like an obstacle for doing what we want to do. But Rebbe Nachman teachers, “One who is aware can find G-d in the midst of the obstacles themselves. There really are not any obstacles in the world at all because in the obstacles themselves is found the Holy One. Through the obstacles themselves, in fact, one might draw closer to God because that is where God is hidden. And this is the meaning for of Moses approached the thick cloud. That is the obstacle, for that is where God is.” 

Many of you are encountering obstacles. Whether they are health challenges, job loses, mourning relatives and friends. Some have reflected that you are scared or anxious. Many of you have asked what you can do in this unprecedented time.  Some of you wonder where is G-d. That everything seems to be slipping away. The Israelites felt that way too when God seemed hidden by The Cloud and they didn’t know which way to go, when Moses disappeared on the top of the mountain for 40 days and nights..  

Last week when we were reading Torah, I said I found it a boring parsha. All those sockets. All those supplies needed to build a miskan, a sanctuary, a house for G-d, a place where that cloud, that presence could settle, and Moses could speak with G-d face to face. While I was chanting the Hebrew, I noticed something that I hadn’t seen before. Each paragraph started with the words “V’asa. And he made.” This portion , too, has a number of instances V’asu, as well as “V’asuli. And they made.” Together they build the mishkan. It took all of them. Together, even here, we are building a house for the Lord, and for us as a community. Only together can we do this work.  

Then we are told “When Moses finished the work, the cloud covered the tent of Meeting the Presence of the Lord filled the Tabernacle. Yet, still Moses could not enter the Tent of Meeting. Only when the cloud lifted could the Israelites set out on their journey.  

This parsha gives me hope.  Pirke Avot teaches us, and it has now become part of my email signature, “Ours is not to finish the task, neither are we free to ignore it.” There are obstacles to creating, to repairing the world we want to live in. But if we each make something, if we each do something, if we look up at the clouds, we can find a way to not ignore the task. This afternoon, look up at the clouds and know that God is there. This evening, find one thing, just one thing you can do to make the world a better place, your community, your household, to build a place for God and you to dwell. 

As we often sing: 

Oh lord prepare me to be a sanctuary 
pure and holy tried and true.
And in thanksgiving I’ll be a living, sanctuary for you.
Ve’asu li mikdash veshachanti betocham 
Ve anachnu nevarech yah Me Atah ve Ad olam 

At the very end of the parsha, we say chazak, chazak v;nitchazaik. Be strong, be strong and be strengthened. We have more of the journey to do. 

 Vayakhel Moshe et kol adat b’nei yisrael. 

Moses then convoked the whole Israelite community  (Ex 35:1) 

That’s how the full portion begins. Our section is a repetition of how to build the mishkan, the portable sanctuary. We know that when something is repeated in the Torah it comes to teach us something new. What are we meant to learn here?  

Every Saturday , every Shabbat morning, I begin our service with this prayer:  

אֱלֹהַי נְשָׁמָה שֶׁנָּתַֽתָּ בִּי טְהוֹרָה הִיא 

My soul that You have given me is pure.  

I remind you to take a breath, because soul is breath. And that you are a beloved child of G-d. G-d created you, breathed your soul into you and that your soul is pure. You are each created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d.  

So take this mirror and take a deep look and smile. Each of you is pure. Each of you is created in the image of G-d. Each of you is loved. 

Our portion and yes, our haftarah too has a lot to do with purity. It talks about the pure gold the overlays the klei kodesh, the holy instruments in the mishkan they are building. The haftarah talks about purifying the impure people who have been scattered, exiled, because they polluted the land.  

Anyone ever drive into Michigan and notice their slogan, “Pure Michigan.” While I believe it has to do with the pure natural beauty of Michigan, I bristle at it every single time. That’s a sermon for another time.  

In the old days, people were scared of life giving fluids, blood and seminal emissions. You needed to be purified from them. They were seen as dangerous if they were somehow out of your body. Mary Douglas’s famous anthropology book, Purity and Danger, makes this very clear. During the second temple period, there were 70 mikva’ot surrounding the temple so that people, men and women could be pure before ascending to the Holy Temple.  

These days, mikva’ot are used primarily by brides, by women after their mensuration and by people becoming Jewish. Having worked at a mikveh I know that they are expanding their uses to create meaningful observances. People recovering from illness, beginning chemo, ending chemo, retirement, milestone birthdays, before Shabbat or other holy days. The possibilities seem endless. I have been witness to many life-affirming rituals both happy and sad.  

Pure isn’t about cleanliness. In fact you take a bath or shower before entering the mikvah. Anita Diamant prefers the term ritually ready. She should know. She wrote the Red Tent and founded the mikvah I worked in and her most recent book is “Period.” 

Sometimes, however, this all gets lost in translation and in practice. So what is the most unusual about this portion is that it includes the women. Over and over again: 

Men and women, all whose hearts moved them, all who would make an elevation offering of gold to GOD, came bringing brooches, earrings, rings, and pendants—gold objects of all kinds. (Ex 35:22) 

The Torah is going out of its way to emphasize the role of women in building the mishkan. How appropriate that we read this portion this year during Women’s History Month. Did any of you go to Gail Borden to see the exhibit about Barbie? It it worth the trip. While I was not allowed to have a Barbie growing up (not the right image according to my intellectual parents), the creator of Barbie, Ruth Handler, “a nice Jewish girl” who wanted a different kind of doll for her daughter than just a baby doll. Barbie could be anything you wanted. A doctor, an astronaut, a computer programmer, an office worker, a police officer. The sky was the limit. Go see the exhibit.  

Did you know that there is Tefilin Barbie. A custom doll (and out of my budget, still). She can wear tefilin, read and lift Torah.  

While women were not prevented from wearing tefilin or chanting Torah, they were most certainly discouraged. They are exempt—so not required from time-bound mitzvot, such as tefilin or saying the Sh’ma as a specific time. That doesn’t mean they can’t. Even Saul’s daughter and Rashi’s daughters are documented in the literature to wear tefilin. 

Not chanting Torah is a little more complicated. It is not, as I was first told as a Tufts student, because women might be impure (read menstruating). Much like the waters of the mikvah, you cannot pass impurities to the Torah. Full stop. Period, (Pun intended.) Rather, women had more time so could better prepare and the rabbis of the Talmud were essentially afraid that a woman, or a child, would show the men up. 

Here at CKI we don’t have that problem. We have men and women who help lead the service. We have men and women who serve equally on the board of directors. And this wasn’t always the case. 

Here during Women’s History Month, it is important to point out that two women’s organizations were founded during the month of March, both in 1912. The first, Hadassah was a platform for women to learn and exhibit real leadership skills in an era where there were not many venues. Like Esther, nee Hadassah, Henrietta Szold, founded Hadassah to give women their voices and to improve the lives of women living in then Palestine, through a focus on nursing. The women found their voices and have raised millions for Hadassah Hospital, their critical medical care and research.  

The second organization also near and dear to me, is Girl Scouts. Founded by Juliette Gordon Low and based on a model from the UK, it was founded in Savanah on March 12, 1912. It gave girls the chance to learn real skills and to earn recognition through badges that were not available to most girls and women at that time. 

Nonetheless, despite Ruth, Henietta and Juliette, women are still denied participation in many of opportunities allowed men in this country.  My husband’s ex-wife was denied the possibility of becoming an archaeologist by the University of Michigan. Their policies would not allow a woman to travel to a dig. Their daughter was told she didn’t need to take chemistry in high school. She is now a chemical engineer evaluating intellectual property. And, of course at some point, I was told I couldn’t be a rabbi because I was a woman.  

Yet, our portion reports that women were responsible for helping to build that mishkan.  

“Every skilled woman put her hand to spinning, and they [all] brought the spun yarn of sky-blue wool, dark red wool, crimson wool and fine linen. Highly skilled women volunteers also spun the goats’ wool.” (Ex. 35:25-26) 

“Every man and woman among the Israelites who felt an urge to give something for all the work that God had ordered through Moses, brought a donation for God.” (Ex. 35:29) 

As Rabbi Lord Sacks, z’l” the chief rabbi of Great Britain pointed out, “Indeed the emphasis is even greater than it seems in translation, because of the unusual locution in verse 22, Vayavo-u ha-anashim al hanashim, which implies that the women came to make their donations first, and the men merely followed their lead (Ibn Ezra, Ramban, and Rabbenu Bachye).” 

Perhaps this is because they still had their gold, since they didn’t give it up to build the Golden Calf, the story we read last week. It is because of this refusal that Rosh Hodesh has been given to women as a half-holiday.  

Perhaps as Kli Yakar (R. Shlomo Ephraim Luntschitz, 1550 –1619) instructs, since the Tabernacle was an atonement for the Golden Calf, the women had no need to contribute at all, since it was the men not the women who needed atonement. Nonetheless, women gave, and they did so before the men. They led by example and the men followed. 

And then as Sacks points out, “He [Betzalel] made the copper washstand and its copper base out of the mirrors of the dedicated women [ha-tzove’ot] who congregated at the entrance of the Communion Tent. (Ex. 38:8”) 

Those mirrors, passed down through the generations of women enslaved are the same ones that the women used to woo their husbands. Those husbands so tired from their forced labor as slaves did not want to procreate. Perhaps the original “Not tonight, I have a headache.” But the women, according to the midrash, would lure their husbands. Moses initially rejected these gifts because the mirrors were made for temptation and lustful thoughts. But G-d told Moses to accept them since they were more precious to G-d than anything. They helped the Jewish people survive. (Midrash Tanhuma) 

What then do we do with our text today? We remember as Rabbi David Greenstein suggested to the students at the Academy for Jewish Religion, we are all klei kodesh, holy instruments and what we are building here is a kehila kedosha, a holy community. A kehila kedosha built as the men and the women were building the mishkan as a place for both women and men built by men and women. We continue to build this place, this very community.  Each of you in pure. Created by G-d, in the image of the Divine. Each of you is loved. 

Adonai, Adonai el rachum v’chanun. Erech Apayim v’rav chesed v’emet. Nose chesed l’alaphim, nose avon, v’ pesa, v’nakeh….

We don’t usually sing this on Shabbat, even if it is a festival. But we know these words. We add them to our daily services every day from Rosh Hodesh Elul through Yom Kippur. It is how G-d taught us to gain atonement.  

It is a portion I know well. It was part of my Bat Mitzvah portion and it is part of why I decided to become a rabbi and then I wrote my thesis about it. Some years I feel that I can never find something new to say.  

If you listen carefully, you will hear two words that repeat. There are no extra words in the Torah, so when this happens, we know it is there for emphasis or to teach us something. The repetition of Adonai, Adonai, according to the rabbis tells us that G-d loves us before we sin and after we sin.  

In another interpretation, we are told that G-d prays. What is that prayer? G-d prays that mercy outweighs justice. Rabbi Zutra bar Tovia, quoting Rav, states that God prays: “May it be My will that My mercy will overcome My anger, and may My mercy prevail over My other attributes, and may I conduct Myself toward My children with the attribute of mercy”. (Berachot 7) Mercy and compassion are extended to a thousand generations and outweigh justice.  

 That might be because G-d loves us unconditionally. And that is the other word. Chesed. Hard to translate. The former president of Hebrew Union College, when he wrote his thesis concluded that Chesed is not a word that can be translated. The closest is lovingkindness. 

According to the dictionary, chesed is “the attribute of grace, benevolence, or compassion, especially (in Kabbalism) as one of the sephiroth. 

Hebrew ḥeseḏ ‘grace, lovingkindness’” 

It is therefore part of the essential nature of G-d. Part of lovingkindness is compassion. This week I saw two quotes that brought me up short.  

Apparently, Elon Musk said, “The fundamental weakness of western civilization is empathy.” It was said during an appearance on the Joe Rogan Experience on February 28, 2025. A meme contrasted this with a quote by Hannah Arndt, “The death of human empathy, is one of the earliest and most telling signs of culture about to fall into barbarism.” Hannah Arndt was a German Jewish political philosopher who escaped Nazi Germany and lived in New York. The CKI book group read a graphic novel/biography about her, “The Three Escapes of Hannah Arndt.” 

Empathy: “the ability to understand and share the feelings of another “he has a total lack of empathy for anybody” 

For me these quotes were chilling. We are taught that we are supposed to be like G-d, we should walk in all G-d’s ways. So, if G-d is gracious and compassionate, full of lovingkindness, how do we do this? 

What is the connection between empathy and compassion. “Compassion combines both empathy and altruism. If empathy is the ability to experience the feelings and pain of another, compassion translates that feeling into action.”  

So compassion is about action. We are then back to discussing gemilut chasadim, ACTS of lovingkindness. Earlier today we sang the verse from Pirke Avot, “Al Shlosha devarim, On three things the world stands. On Torah, On worship and on acts of lovingkindness, gemilut chasadim.” 

We are told that we should love our neighbors as ourselves, v’ahavta l’reyecha kamocha, ahava being the other word for love. And we are told that what G-d requires of us is “to do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with G-d.” (Micah 6:8) The phrase “Love mercy” as we commonly translate it really combines those two words. “V’ahavat chesed.” Perhaps better, “Love lovingkindness.” 

This, therefore is what we are commanded to do. To love our neighbors, (That’s why I immediately reached out to First United Methodist to see what we can do in light of the roof that was ripped off the church last night.) To be like G-d, extending lovingkindness and compassion to all by clothing the naked, welcoming our guests, visiting the sick, feeding the hungry and burying the dead. That’s what it means when it talks about walking with G-d.