There is so much important moments in this portion. Abraham, Hagar and Ishmael. Abraham and Isaac. Fighting over wells. But today I want to focus on just one phrase. 

“Abraham then prayed to God, and God healed Abimelech and his wife and his slave girls, so that they bore children.” (Genesis 20:17) 

This is the first use of the word “to pray” in the Torah. In Hebrew the verb is l’hitpalel.” It is a reflexive verb, meaning that it is something you do to yourself. (My Frisch teacher would be pleased, but don’t worry, this will not be a grammar lesson!) 

But what does it mean to pray? To whom is Abraham praying? And for what? In earlier parshaas, we have our patriarchs offer offerings, some kind of burnt meat to G-d. Apparently G-d is hungry and needs a pleasing odor. This idea of praying, however, seems to be a new concept. How does Abraham even know what it means? Or how to do it. 

A dictionary definition of pray is “to address a solemn request or expression of thanks to a deity or other object of worship. “the whole family is praying for Michael”” 

In Judaism there are 3 traditional forms or prayer:  

• prayers of thanksgiving, and we have done some of those this morning.  
• Prayers of praise: like psalms that include hallelujah.  
• Prayers of request, those that ask for things. 

Some say praying is like having a conversation between yourself and that deity. We have an example of just such a conversation in earlier part of this parsha. The great debate between Abraham and G-d about saving the cities of Sodom and Gemorah. If there are 50 righteous people will You spare the cities? Abraham bargains G-d down to just 10. That is the reason usually cited for needing a minyan. Ten righteous people. Ten adult Jewish males. Ten adult Jews. Those provide a sense of community, connection and support. It’s what we need for a full service. But that doesn’t mean we can’t pray as individuals on our own.  

We don’t ask for things from G-d on Shabbat. G-d is resting too. Except we do. We prayed the Mi Sheberach prayer, for healing of mind, body and spirit. And many of our prayers pray for peace. It is throughout our liturgy. Oseh Shalom, Sim Shalom, Shalom Rav all hope for peace. Pray for peace. Even on Shabbat.  

Recently, however, I was at a clergy meeting. Another rabbi, citing Ecclesiastes said that he would not pray for peace. He could only pray for a successful war. The other clergy in the room were pretty stunned. We quickly moved the agenda to talk about other things, like the Interfaith Thanksgiving Service. Just like Abraham and Abimelech, we Jews can sit down (or stand up) and pray with other people. I would argue that this is not the time to cancel interfaith services. It is a time to be more visible not less. It is, in fact, a time to pray for peace. 

But back to my brief grammar lesson. L’hitpalel is a reflexive verb. It something that we do to ourselves. Maybe in community and maybe alone. What does it DO? What change does it affect? I think it is about balance. About being calm. About being grounded. About being peaceful. It changes us in fundamental ways.  

When we first meet Avram, he is told to Lech L’cha, to go forth. from his native land . Some argue about the formulation. There seems to be an extra lamed, Perhaps it really means to go towards yourself, to find yourself. 

That is part of why meditation can be so important. It is a chance to go to yourself.  

I like the Buddhist metta meditation, sometimes called the lovingkindness meditation: 

For ourselves:
May I be happy. May I be well. May I be safe. May I be peaceful and at ease. 

For our families, neighbors, friends:
May you be happy. May you be well. May you be safe. May you be peaceful and at ease. 

For our enemies:
May they be happy. May they be well. May they be safe. May they be peaceful and at ease. 

I first learned this in Guatemala when I was there with American Jewish World Service. We were standing in a rose garden that unbelievably was started in 1983, the year of the “scorched earth.” It is estimated that between 1982-1983, 70,000 of Guatemala’s indigenous population were killed or disappeared. Inhabitant were raped, tortured and murdered. Over 300 villages were completely razed. Crops and drinking water polluted. What did it mean to be standing in this beautiful rose garden, praying for peace for my enemies?  

This is a difficult time for Jews. Very difficult. In Israel. Even right here in the States with rising anti-semitism. There is a place for prayer in all of this. But I will not be praying for war, successful or otherwise. I will continue to pray for peace. To pursue peace. To run after peace, just as Abraham did. Right here at home. 

Last night we talked about blessings. What does it mean to be a blessing. How do you know you are a blessing? Everybody left with a blessing, given by someone present, either in the room or on Zoom. We learned that ia blessing is something we are grateful for, It can be something unique that you offer the world. The world is a better place because you are in it. Each of you is a blessing.  Each of you brings me joy. Even in a time of war. 

I saw this post recently, a Mary Oliver poem about joy.

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, 
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty 
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about 
to be. We are not wise, and not very often 
kind. And much can never be redeemed. 
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this 
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes 
something happens better than all the riches 
or power in the world. It could be anything, 
but very likely you notice it in the instant 
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the 
case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid 
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.
Mary Oliver

Last week we debated whether we could do an update form of Adon Olam. I argued, yes argued, that yes…if Israelis can do weddings. We can sing. Joyfully. Even in our sadness.

 Abraham in this week’s portion is told that he and his descendants will be a blessing. He will be as numerous as the stars in the sky and the sands of the sea. 

At the High Holy Days I stood here and said come back for Lech Lecha and I would talk about Isrrael, I figured we would be discussing judicial reform. I figured it would be complicated. I figured that we would not all agree and that I would feel like I don’t know enough. I still don’t but it is an important conversation. A critical one. I did not imagine that we would be at this moment. 

Many rabbis this week have shared how the Torah portion today fits the moment that we are in.  

G-d tells Avram, not yet Abraham, to go, to leave his country, the land of his birth, his father’s house, and go to the land that G-d would show him…to Canaan, now the land of Israel. There he would be.a blessing. A great nation. 

This is the land that G-d swore to give to our ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac and to Jacob, throughout the Torah. This reference here then is the first claim that Jews are in the land. Hebrews, Israelites, Jews, whatever term you call us, have lived continually in the land since Abraham’s time. Perhaps, in the continual barrage of misinformation, you may have read or seen a meme that Jews or Israelis have no claim to the land because they haven’t lived there bwfore 1948. That would be false. Even after the destruction of the Second Temple some Jews remained. That’s why there are two Talmuds, the Babylonian Talmud and the Yerushalmi, The Jerusalem Talmud. That’s why there are photos from the 1800s of men and women both standing at the Western Wall that I like to use to talk about a woman’s right to daven at the Kotel equally with men—but that is a sermon for another day. Sometimes we need to refute misinformation.  

Back to today’s story. There was a famine in the land and once again Avram and his family became refugees. He went down to Egypt. In the Zohar we learn that this is also a spiritual going down, the opposite of going up, making aliyah which is a spiritual aliyah. A measure of that going down is how Avram treated Sarai. She was a beautiful woman, and he was willing to sacrifice her to the Egyptians to save himself by calling her his sister. This is the end of National Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Every year I say something about this topic. Today I will merely say that our patriarchs and our matriarchs were not perfect people. This was not Avram’s finest moment. And it is a clear example of domestic violence. And he uses this trick, this ruse twice!  

 Domestic violence exists in roughly the same proportions regardless of educational level, economic level or ethnic origin. It exists in the Jewish community, Roughly, 1 in 4 women will experience rape or domestic violence at some point in their lifetimes. It is wrong. Period. And it still exists and the numbers show that it went up during the pandemic by roughly 40%. That is why I am so proud of the work that organizations like Shalva do and closer to home our own Maureen Maning and the Community Crisis Center. It is why it is important that the Elgin Police Department works to eradicate domestic violence and part of why I am a police chaplain.  

Back to our story, Sarai is carried off to the Egyptian palace because she is so beautiful. There she becomes a captive in the Pharaoh’s own home, and she becomes his wife. She is rescued by G-d when G-d unravels Avram’s plan and Pharaoh dismisses them. Rescuing captives, hostages is a very high value in Judaism. We pray for it as a blessing in those first morning blessings, who releases the bound or the fettered. It is part of the second paragraph of the Amidah, when we acknowledge that G-d, “matir asurim,” frees the captives. It is emphasized in the Talmud. 

The Talmud actually calls pidyon shvuyim, rescuing captives a “mitzvah rabbah”, a great mitzvah because captivity is seen as even worse than starvation or death. (Bava Batra 8b)  

Maimonides then writes, “The redeeming of captives takes precedence over supporting the poor or clothing them. There is no greater mitzvah than redeeming captives for the problems of the captive include being hungry, thirsty, unclothed, and they are in danger of their lives too. Ignoring the need to redeem captives goes against these Torah laws: “Do not harden your heart or shut your hand against your needy fellow” (Deuteronomy15:7); “Do not stand idly by while your neighbor’s blood is shed” (Leviticus 19:16). And misses out on the following mitzvot: “You must surely open your hand to him or her” (Deuteronomy 15:8); “…Love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18); “Rescue those who are drawn to death” (Proverbs 24:11) and “… there is no mitzvah greater than the redeeming of captives.” (Mishnah Torah, Hilchot Matanot Aniyim 8:10-11) 

The Shulchan Aruch adds: “Every moment that one delays in freeing captives, in cases where it is possible to expedite their freedom, is considered to be tantamount to murder.” (Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah 252:3) 

In Europe, congregations and communities maintained funds just for the rescue of those seized unlawfully.  

We have witnessed the power of this in what we call modern history with the Raid on Entebbe, executed by Netanyahu’s brother Yoni and the even more recent release of Gilad Shalit who was held captive by Hamas for five years and was only released in exchange for 1,027 prisoners including 280 prisoners serving life sentences for planning and perpetrating previous terror attacks. I fear that some of those events are part of how we got to this very moment. 

 Surely there are limits to our need and our desire to bring every captive back. Rabbinic scholars and military strategists debate this. Does exchanging one prisoner for many lead to more captives? Does it embolden terrorists? I know that I do not have the answer. I do know that every life has value. Every life is created b’tzelem elohim. In the image of G-d. Bring them home now. I do know that if I thought I could have solved peace in the Middle East I would have chosen a different career with perhaps the State Department.  It is also important to note that the Israeli policy is different from the US policy. Officially,  the US policy is we don’t negotiate with terrorists. Full stop. 

After Sarai’s release, Avram and Lot wander back up to the Negev, but their possessions were too great and “the land could not support them.” So, they divided the land in two. Avram said, Is not the whole land before you? Let us separate: if you go north, I will go south; and if you go south, I will go north.” Haven’t we heard that language before? Is this the original two state solution? 

 Yet again there is a repetition of the promise of the land: 

And יהוה said to Abram, after Lot had parted from him, “Raise your eyes and look out from where you are, to the north and south, to the east and west, for I give all the land that you see to you and your offspring forever.  

I will make your offspring as the dust of the earth, so that if one can count the dust of the earth, then your offspring too can be counted.   

Up, walk about the land, through its length and its breadth, for I give it to you.”  

And Abram moved his tent, and came to dwell at the terebinths of Mamre, which are in Hebron; and he built an altar there to יהוה. 

The land. This very land. His descendants, what became known as the children of Israel and the children of Ishmael both are blessings. Both lay claim to the land. Both are created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. 

Yet sibling rivalry is real and this solution is not good enough, a twelve-year war ensues. [The invaders] seized all the wealth of Sodom and Gomorrah and all their provisions, and went their way. They also took Lot, the son of Abram’s brother, and his possessions, and departed; for he had settled in Sodom.  

Lot is captured. Our second hostage.  

And [God] said to Avram, “Know well that your offspring shall be strangers in a land not theirs, and they shall be enslaved and oppressed four hundred years; Foreshadowing before there was a literary term for it.  

As I write this, we don’t know what will be or what the fate of the hostages will be. Apparently, Israel rolled into Gaza overnight. It is clear that more people will die. More children will die. Our tradition teaches to seek peace and pursue it. To run after it. I know I don’t have the solutions. My heart is breaking.  

Yet, there is another promise, given to Isaiah:
“I the Lord have called you. I hold your hand. I create you and appoint you a covenant people, a light of nations, opening the eyes of the blind, rescuing prisoners from the jail and those who sit in darkness from the dungeon.” (Isaiah 42:6-7) 

As part of our Torah service for the past few weeks we have been adding to our mi sheberach prayer, the prayer for those in captivity. There have been a number written recently. We have been using this one:

Our God, the One who raised Joseph up from the pit, be “a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble.” (Psalm 9:10)   

Send complete rescue and full redemption to all those held captive by the enemy. Strengthen their spirit and bring them our prayers that they be protected from all harm.  Implant understanding in the heart of the enemy that they may return the captives in wholeness of body and spirit.   

Grant wisdom to the Israel Defense Forces that they may secure freedom for the captives without loss of life.   

Grant strength of spirit and courage of heart to all the sons and daughters of Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar to release bonds of captivity and allow us all to live in freedom.   

“They shall call upon Me, and I will answer them; I will be with them in distress; I will rescue them, and honor them.” (after Psalm 91:15) 

Rabbi Ofer Sabath Beit-Halachmi (Translation: Rabbi Rachel Sabath Beit-Halachmi) 

We are in an in between stage. This year, in a congregation that reads the trienniel cycle, we are in year 2. We know the stories of this parsha, Parsha Noach, so well. G-d was not happy with the world G-d created. And once again thinks about destroying the whole world. G-d picks Noah, a righteous man in his generation, to build an ark, a tevah, to house Noah’s immediate family and a pair of every animal. The rains came and flooded the earth. That is the short version of what we read last year. Next year we read about the Tower Of Babel and how all the languages got confused. But right now, we are in the in between stage.  

Currently, it seems that the world is in an in between stage as well. We are waiting for the next big announcement. What will be the fate of the hostages? Will Egypt allow the Rafah border crossing to open allowing aid in and refugees out. Will Isrrael invade Gaza, destroying Hamas once and for all. Is that even possible, I feel like we are holding our collective breath, even as we celebrate the release of two hostages.  

I have always loved the symbolism of the rainbow. The sign of the covenant, G-d’s promise that G-d will never destroy the world again. You need the perfect balance between sun and rain to see a rainbow. They always make me smile. I learned this week that it resembles a hunter’s bow. But it is upside down. It is the opposite therefore of a symbol of war.  It rains down G-d’s mercy and love.  

But there are two other symbols. The dove and the olive leaf. I wondered why. Why choose those symbols. I discovered that there is less written about this topic than I might have guessed. This leaves it ripe for midrash. Isaac Bashevis Singer wrote a short story, “Why Noah Chose the Dove.” which became a children’s book illustrated by Eric Carle who also did the Very Hungry Caterpillar. We’ll look at that, but first we’ll explain some of what I gleaned.  

Some of it has to do with speech. Both trees and animals speak in the Torah. The trees asked the olive tree to be king of the trees. (Softim 9:8) The Talmud tells us that the raven spoke (Sanhedrin 108b) and today’s parsha tells us that the dove told Noah a message.  

“The dove came to him at evening time, and in her mouth was an olive leaf torn off, so Noah knew that the waters had abated from off the earth.” (Genesis 8:11) 

Rashi explains that in her mouth means that a word was in her mouth, ie, she was speaking. And it was a torn olive leaf because she preferred the bitter to the sweet. It reminds me of Naomi Shemer’s song “Al Kol Eleh” https://israelforever.org/interact/multimedia/Music/the_bitter_and_sweet_song_of_prayer_and_promise_naomi_shemer/ which seems even more poignant in this moment. Over the bitter and the sweet. I cry yet again as I watch and listen to this version.  

Where did the olive leaf come from? Some say from the Garden of Eden and not just floating on the water. (Midrash Bereishit Rabbah 33:6) From the same midrash, some say from the Mount of Olives. Perhaps it didn’t rain in the land of Israel itself and so the trees endured. (Ramban on Genesis 8:11). This offers us a sense of protection for the land of Israel itself.  

And as I learned one year in Israel long ago, the Shechinah rests on the Western Wall, symbolized by the dove. The congregation of Israel is compared to both the dove and the olive. The Rabbi often compared the Jewish people to the dove, “Just as the dove is only saved by its wings, so too Israel is onlu preserved by the mitzvot, (Berachot 53b) 

But this is modern too. Joshua Heller wrote a beautiful commentary published by JTS in October, 2000. It is as apt today as it was then. He compares the terms Doves, Hawks and Ravens. We know that hawks are men of war and doves, people of peace. “A hawk is warlike, relying on its talons to attack its prey. Powerful, world-dominating nations from ancient Rome to our own country have included eagles or hawks as symbols of their military might.” But what about the raven? We know the Poe poem, “Quote the raven never more.” and Heller points out that Reish Lakish teaches in Sanhedrin 108b that the raven’s coming and returning was not an exhaustive search but a series of verbal repartees.  

“Recent events have prompted a shift in our political aviary. Doves have become hawks, and there is a strong temptation to portray the other side as the rabbis did the raven. The raven tried to evade responsibility making false accusations and claims of discrimination. Similarly, Palestinian spokespeople and sympathizers in the media present wildly exaggerated or falsified claims of injustice….in the beginning days of the conflict, the Palestinian authority offered rewards to the families of each child that might be martyred in the conflict. This type of demonization is tempting but profoundly dangerous. If indeed the other side is so completely evil, how can there ever be peace? Why should the Israeli government have trusted them in the first place.”  

These words written in 2000 are haunting today.  

However, Heller ends his d’var torah with these words: Let us hope that it is not too long before the deep wellsprings of hatred dru up and Jews and Palestinians can share not only the olive branch of peace, but the bread and meat of Elijah.” 

And Isaac Bashevis Singer? How does he picture the dove? As the one who is modest. Who doesn’t boast or brag and who kept silent. That is why Noah chose the dove.  

I’d like to think that the dove is still perched there on top of the Wall, still crying and still offering us hope. May there be peace one day. And may the shechinah and the dove lead the way. 

Recently I spoke at Gail Borden Public Library on the topic of gratitude. It was a multi-generational, multi-lingual event. And a lot of fun. Here are my remarks:

I gratefully accepted a speaking engagement for our local, award winning public library, even though it is on a Saturday afternoon. And even during an exceptionally busy weekend. Or that Israel would have been attacked just a week ago. Can we find gratitude in the midst of a war? So thank you for the opportunity to teach a little bit about gratitude. That’s what rabbis do. We teach. 

Judaism has a lot to say about gratitude. The rabbis of the Talmud say tnat we should say 100 blessings a day. 100. Cien. That’s significantly more than the contemporary idea that we should make a list, a journal of 3 things we are grateful for before we go to sleep. You have the opportunity to do that, right here today. In the back of the room. I was grateful to be able to do my three in English and Spanish.  Comida. Agua. Vida. Food. Water. Life. I am grateful for Duolingo Spanish. And I am working on it!

When we wake up, we first sing Modah Ani, I thank you G-d for restoring my soul to me. So every body stretch, yawn, and be grateful that we are here, right here, right now.  

Our morning services help us begin to get there, with an ancient list of fifteen blessings. In the prayerbook that we use at Congregation Kneseth Israe, the list is on page 65.. They all follow the same formula. Praised are You who… A blessing is something we are grateful for, that we are praising G-d and thanking G-d for.  

The first one says “Praised are You, Adonai our G-d who rule the universe enabling us to distinguish day from night. If you know the Hebrew it really says who gives wisdom to the rooster. Because a rooster crows to wake us up. Everybody crow. Cock-a-doodle-doo! 

All of these blessings are about waking up in the morning. Opening our eyes, putting on clothes, getting out of bed, One in particular I want to underscore, Praised are You who frees the captive. It is something we pray for every morning. 

But the list can feel a little too perfoma, a little too trite. So if we were building a list of 100 things, what would you put on the list. We’ll take that list and inscribe them on a pumpkin and use it as a centerpiece for Elgin’s annual Interfaith Thanksgiving Service, November 19 at 4:00 PM. 

(Build list) 

We have a prayer that expresses our thanksgiving. Modim Anachnu Lach. Sometimes while I am leading this prayer, I say to myself, just come up with one thing that I am grateful for, just one thing.  

This has been a hard week. But I remain grateful. 

Here’s my list. Today. 

1. I am grateful for the number of people who have reached out to me personally or to the congregation. That list alone could be 100 at this stage. Each of you is a blessing and someone I am grateful for.  

1. I am grateful for the Elgin Police Department who has vowed to keep us safe and keeps showing up. Often more than one officer in the parking lot of the synagogue. 

1. I am grateful for the board member who brought me kleenex when I choked up during my sermon this morning. 

1. I am grateful for modern technology and communications that enables us to keep informed and connected. 

1. I am grateful for Congressman Raja’s office who is working to get Americans out of Israel and Gaza. 

1. I am grateful for the weddings, the B’nei Mitzvah, the brises that happened this week, here and in Israel. These bring me hope. 

1. I am grateful for a young person who led part of the service and an intellectually challenged woman who read. These are generation to generation moments. 

1. I am grateful for the smile of that little one in the back of the room. Her smile, her giggles, her wave delights me and brings me hope. 

1. I am grateful for the colors of autumn, intensified on this cloudy, raw, rainy day. It is beautiful.  

1. I am grateful for the library, the symphony, Elgin’s diversity and commitment to welcoming all people. Our elected officials, even the ones I don’t always agree with.  

These blessings don’t fit in that traditional formula…but I am grateful nonetheless. They bring me hope. You all bring me hope.  

This is personal. For all of us. It is gut wrenching. As others have said this week, including Rabbi Wendi Geffen at the gathering of solidarity in Glencoe, Israel is 6208 miles from here. And while we often talk about 6 degrees of separation, for us, this is just one or two. Everybody knows someday directly affected. Who has family in Israel? Who knows someone injured or captured? Who knows someone who was killed? Who knows someone in Gaza? That includes me. So, this is personal. Currently we have two family members in Israel. One is the cousin of our Israeli niece who is one of the hostages. One is my grandnephew who is a lone soldier. You don’t have to agree with me. But you do have to listen.  

Once, I drove down the Merritt Parkway in Connecticut. The song “Ha Milchama Ha Achronah, The last war” written about the Yom Kippur War, was playing on the radio. Ani mavtiach lach, yalda sheli k’tanan, I promise you my little girl, this will be the last war. I found myself sobbing. What about my little girl? Would it ever be the last war? Could I make this promise? I got off the highway.  

The Yom Kippur War, 50 years ago, was not the last war. Nor was the incursion into Lebanon 40 years ago. An almost war when I lost my first finance, my first love, to a terrorist bomb. Nor were the “intifadas”. If a generation is 20 years, it has been 2 generations already since Yuval was killed. 40 years. 

Lador vador. From generation to generation. It is often a rallying cry.  

40 years is also considered the age of wisdom. At 40 you can begin to study mysticism. (If you are male and married).  

40 years. What have we learned? The young people murdered look like we looked. They could be our children and our grandchildren. They would be the third and fourth generation 

Once, I was sitting in a Holiday Inn in Waldorf, Germany on a Sunday morning. CNN was on in the background. It was the only channel I could understand. I was working on my rabbinic thesis. On the 13 Attributes of the Divine. Adonai, Adonai, El Rachum v’chanun…The Lord, the Lord G-d is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, filled with lovingkindness and truth, extending love to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin. That’s what we say for the selichot prayers that begin the High Holy Days and continue throughout Yom Kippur at a fever pitch. That’s what we chant on festivals before the open ark. That was my Bat Mitzvah portion and why I became a rabbi. We are told we are to be like G-d. We are to walk in G-d’s ways. We are to clothe the naked like G-d clothed Adam and Eve. We are to visit the sick, like G-d visited Abraham. We are to bury the dead like G-d buried Moses. This week I saw a plea to show up at three cemeteries in Israel to help dig graves. Burying the dead is considered chesed shel emet, lovingkindness of truth, two of those 13 attributes.  

But there is more to this verse: “yet not remitting all punishment, but visiting the iniquity of parents upon children and children’s children, upon the third and fourth generations.” (Exodus 34:7) 

Once, before there were terms like “trauma informed care” and “generational trauma” I sat in that hotel room listening to CNN. Israel had just “accidentally” by everybody’s analysis just bombed an apartment building in Lebanon. A young parent clutching a 3-month-old was being interviewed. He repeatedly said he was not angry with the Israelis but he worried about his young daughter. What would she think in 20 years? 

Once I finished that thesis. I became a rabbi. Something Yuval and I had dreamed of. After much study of domestic violence, German-Jewish reconciliation and yes, even audaciously the Israeli-Palestinian conflict I concluded that there are “sins” that are passed down generation to generation. In order, to break the cycle of violence, someone needs to feel safe. In order to forgive, you need to be safe, to know that the cycle is not going to be repeated. The cycle is repeating itself. 

Today I stand here and wonder where that daughter is. Is she in Lebanon? Is she part of Hezbolah? Does she look like the images of the children mowed down at a music festival? Is she gearing up for a war? Is she going to attack my daughter? 

Today we read Bereshit. In the beginning G-d created. Or if you prefer, When G-d began to create. G-d created us all b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. As I often say, “All means all.” 

The Talmud teaches that to save a life is to save the world. To destroy a life is to destroy the world. It is repeated in the Koran. We are taught that we are created from one person, Adam, so that no one can say that my lineage is better than yours.  

When did we lose our humanity, G-d? When we learn to devalue human life?  

In our Torah portion this week, Cain kills Abel. He asks, famously, “Am I my brother’s keeper.” The answer is yes. The same Talmudic story about being created from one person also teaches that the spilling of blood (in this case a plural Hebrew noun), means that Cain is responsible not just for Abel’s blood but for all the descendants as well. Lord, there has been too much blood spilled for too long.  

As I stand here today, my heart is so very shattered. On this Shabbat Bereshit we remember the story from the Zohar. When G-d began to create, G-d made it full of light. G-d placed the light in a vessel but it was so bright, the vessel shattered. Our job is to gather those shards back together again. That is tikkun olam. Our job is to repair the word.  

We have collected other shards in Judaism. The shards of the first set of 10 commandments that the Israelites collected and placed next to the full set in the ark as they wandered through the desert. They were keeping the memory of their dreams unfulfilled alive. At a wedding we smash a glass, symbolic of our mourning. Some collect those shards as a reminder to create beauty out of brokenness. 

Somehow, there were weddings in Israel this week. Weddings, B’nei Mitzvah, brises. Acts of defiance and hope.  

 Lord as I stand here today, I am angry. It says, O-G-d, that you are slow to anger, erech apayim. But I am really, really angry. There can be no justification, no moral equivalency for the murder of babies, the mowing down of children at a music festival, the kidnapping of women in wheelchairs, the deliberate slaying of entire families. There is no justification in rape. There is no justification in taking hostages. Period.  

Yet You tell us that “Vengance is Mine.” Lord it says we are to forgive but surely there are sins so heinous that we cannot forgive. Do I need to forgive? How can I possibly forgive?  

Help me to remember that all people are created b’tzelem elohim. Help me to see the humanity in terrified children hiding in hospitals and schools. Help me to achieve balance in a world that does not seem balanced.  

HaRachamin, the Merciful One, a name both Jews and Muslims call You, help me to mourn. Our dead, our dreams, our hope. Help us to find the glimmers of light, the shards of glass, the helpers. Help us to find our way back to You so that we can put our lives, our world, back together again. Help me to find hope. HaTikvah.  

Please rise for HaTikvah. 

How does the rabbi prepare… 

• When her former spiritual director and his wife, long time friends from Chelmsford say they are driving through Elgin on the way back from the Western National Parks, you say yes. What a lovely weekend with long in-depth conversations, good food, lots of laughter, walks and a hike at Carl Hansen Woods to see the Kame, ice cream, a trip to Gail Borden and the chance for us to do a dialogue about “teshuvah” for Shabbat Shuva. A very stress free weekend. May need to do this every year. 
• A mikveh experience 
• Lots of reading and writing 
• Lots of phone calls, emails and text messages 

In the old days, a rabbi would give two sermons a year. On Shabbat Shuvah, teaching people how to do teshuvah, returning, repenting. And on the Shabbat before Passover to teach people how to prepare for Passover. Here is what I said on Shabbat. May each of you be inscribed for a blessing in the Book of Life. 

Ha’azzinu! Give ear! Listen up! Wake up! 

As we near the end of Deuteronomy and listen to the reassurance of our haftarah as the seasons change, (yes, it is fall!) we are reminded of a number of things as we move into the weekend that also contains Yom Kippur. 

Return, O Israel, to the ETERNAL your God, (Hosea 14:2) 

Generously will I take them back in love; 

For My anger has turned away from them. (Hosea 14:5) 

This is hope. This is reassuring.  And we all need reassuring. 

As Fantine sings in Les Mis:
“I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high
And life worth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed that God would be forgiving.” 

 She has been hurt by life, deeply, deeply hurt and she is not sure about love or that G-d will be forgiving. Many of us have been too and have the same doubts about G-d and love. 

 Our portion this morning is part of Moses’s swan song. His ethical will. He knows he is about to die and he is trying to impart all of his knowledge to his people.  

 The central message of our portions today is that G-d loves us. Still loves us. Still today. And G-d is with us. Still today. 

If we return. What does that mean? 

This period of time between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is a great reset button. We get to start again. Last night Rev. Dr. Dave Ferner and I spoke about how to do that. 

I echoed Maimonides from the 12th century who gave us 12 steps. I quip that it is the original 12 Step program. Rabbi Paul Kipnes distilled it to 6 steps: 

1. Regret: We can’t return unless recognize our mistakes. We have to have some remorse. (Yes, remorse. I have very few regrets in life. I once told Dave I didn’t have any remorse so it has become a joke between us. But I do have remorse for hurting people, often unintentionally,) 

1. Renounce: We need to admit thst our actions were wrong. No excuses. No rationalizations, No blaming the other person. 

1. Confess: We need to confess our sins. Not in some Catholic, go to confession before mass kind of way. Not in one of those pro forma memes you might see on facebook this weekend covering all your bases but not being specific or personal. Rather out loud. So that our ears hear what our mouths are saying.  

1. Reconcile: We have to “make up’ with the person we have hurt, wounded. This may be the hardest step. It begins with an apology. We’ll talk about that more shortly. 

1. Make amends: It could be financial compensation. It could be therapy for ourselves or others. It could be volunteering, giving back to others. 

1. Resolve: Teshuva is complete when we resolve to not do it again—and do not repeat the same hurt.  

Sounds easy no? Just 6 steps. If you want to read Rabbi Kipnes’s full understanding, it is here: 

https://www.paulkipnes.com/6-steps-of-teshuvah/  

But then Kipnes attempts to answer another question: What does G-d have to do with this? He maintains it is ALL about G-d. As we said last night, Yom Kippur atones for sins between a person and G-d but for sins against each other, Yom Kippur does not atone until they have made peace with each other. 

G-d gives us the courage and the strength to recognize the mistake, to find the remorse and be vulnerable enough to admit it and apologize.  

Why do we do this? Rabbi Harold Kushner said: 

“If you have been brave enough to love, and somtimes you won and sometimes you lost; if you have cared enough to try, and sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t; if you have been bold enough to dream and found yourself with some dreams that came true and a lot of broken pieces of dreams that didn’t, that fell to earth and shattered,then you can look back from the mountaintop you now find yourself standing on, like Moses contemplating the tablets that would guide human behavior for a millenia, resting in the Ark alongside the broken fragments of an earlier dream. And you, like Moses, can realize how ful your life has been and how richly you are blessed. ” 

How then do we apology? There is a lovely children’s book for Yom Kippur called the Hardest Word. G-d sends this giant bird, Zizook to find the hardest word. Zizook brings back several words as ideas. None of them are quite right. Finally, Zizook finds the word “sorry.” It really is hard to say sorry. 

It is said that we clergy types only give the sermon we ourselves need to hear. My daughter thinks that I don’t apologize well. For that I am sorry. So here goess:

An apology is a statement with two key elements. It must begin by saying, “I’m sorry.” It must show that you feel remorse over your actions and it must acknowledge the hurt that your actions caused to that person.
I would add it cannot contain excuses or blame the other person. I’m sorry that you feel that way about what I did shifts the onus back to the person you’ve hurt.
It needs to be authentic and not proforma. And it requires listening, deep, active listening, Remember, that this portion began with the phrase “Give ear.”  

Why is it so hard? It is hard to admit we made a mistake. It is hard to go to someone and say we are sorry, to admit it to the person, to admist it to ourselves. It is hard to give up a grudge, although we are commanded to do so:
“You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against members of your people. Love your fellow [Israelite] as yourself: I am Adonai..” (Leviticus 19:18) 

But perhaps the hardest part of this equation is to forgive those who have hurt us. Atonement, both Simon and I learned in our Reform Religious Schools, can be broken down to At One Ment. The object of Yom Kippur then is to find that sense of At One Ment. It is a sense of balance and peace and joy. It is about knowing, really, really knowing that G-d, who we call One, Echad, is with us and loves us and give us joy. 

 People often ask me if Yom Kippur is a sad holiday. And there are elements of that. Some see it as a rehearsal for our own death. Some see the fasting as hard. Some find Yizkor painful. Ultimately, it is a joyous holiday where we begin the new year fresh and recommitted to our authentic selves, ready to begin again.  

Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel said: There were no days more joyous than the 15th of Av (Tu B’Av) and Yom Kippur, for on those days the daughters of Jerusalem would go out in borrowed white clothing, in order not to embarrass those who did not have…and the daughters of Jerusalem would dance in the vineyards.” (Mishna Ta’anit 4:8).  

Forgiving others, forgiving ourselves, even forgiving G-d can be like an onion. It doesn’t happen all at once. Sometimes it can take years. Sometimes we need to feel safe, to truly be safe before we can do that. But as someone said to me this week after some brothers reconciled, it can feel like a great weight has been lifted. Sometimes forgiving someone is not for the person who hurt you. It is a gift you give yourself. 

O children of Zion, be glad, 

Rejoice in the ETERNAL your God. (Joel 2:23) 

This gives us hope. Will we get it right? Maybe? Is it easy? Not always. Can we do it? You bet. If G-d is a forgiving G-d, then we can be forgiving individuals. If G-d told Moses that 

The Sound of Holiness 

When God, in creating,
Began to create,
Silence hovered over the face of the deep.
And God said,
T’kiah. T’ruah. T’kiah. 

Holiness has a sound.
Part swoosh of blood in the veins,
Part hum from the edge of the universe,
Part stillness, part vibration,
Part life entering a newborn,
Part life leaving the deceased,
Part dissonance, part resonance,
A sound that can only be heard
With the heart. 

When God, in creating,
Began to create,
God spoke in music,
Giving us the shofar
As a vessel to hold the divine voice,
And as an instrument
To summon awe and wonder,
So we might become,
In our own lives
And in the world,
T’kiah g’dolah. 

Alden Solovy

Do not separate yourself from the community, Today, we celebrate the birthday of the world.  

Five thousand seven hundred and eighty four years ago, the world was created. I am aware that our story of creation does not match our scientific understanding. Yet this story has much to teach us, even today.  

Perhaps this wasn’t the first creation. Maybe 974 worlds or perhaps a 1000 depending on which midrash you read and subscribe to. Perhaps G-d was angry. Perhaps G-d was looking for perfection. Perhaps, G-d created other things before G-d created this one. Perhaps G-d did not create alone. G-d said, “Let us make Adam in our image.”
Perhaps G-d didn’t want man to be alone. Already G-d was creating a community. 

On the sixth day, God saw all that God had made, and found it very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day. 

 But G-d didn’t just create man. Or man and woman. G-d created many things, a great variety of things. G-d and the world needed that diveristy. We still do. Yesterday we spoke about how diverse our small community is, and how still we are connected, part of one community. You all belong. Right here, right now. 

Today I thought I just wanted to teach you one text. This is the text, based on “Do Not Separate yourself from the community, the congregation as anyone who separates themselves will not see the congregation consoled.” Consoled might become the key word here.  

(4) “Do not separate yourself from the congregation”: but rather share in their troubles. As anyone who separates from the congregation will not see the congregation consoled (Taanit 11a). 

And it is taught in a baraita: A Torah scholar is not permitted to reside in any city that does not have these ten things: A court that has the authority to flog and punish transgressors; and a charity fund for which monies are collected by two people and distributed by three, as required by halakha. This leads to a requirement for another three people in the city. And a synagogue; and a bathhouse; and a public bathroom; a doctor; and a bloodletter; and a scribe [velavlar] to write sacred scrolls and necessary documents; and a ritual slaughterer; and a teacher of young children. With these additional requirements there are a minimum of 120 men who must be residents of the city. They said in the name of Rabbi Akiva: The city must also have varieties of fruit, because varieties of fruit illuminate the eyes. (Sanhedrin 17B;10 

All summer, as I prepared to teach about community, this text was my favorite text. 

We have most of those things. We have courts, both secular of the government and the ability to form a beit din, a court of rabbis, used here mostly for conversions. Thank you, Rabbi Gordon for being part of many of those. A rabbi’s discretionary fund that is used for a wide variety of needs for individuals and the community at large. A synagogue, right here. Access to the Community Mikveh in Wilmette, Doctors and dentists and so many health care professionals. Access to our sofer, scribe, And I am pleased to tell you that Sofer Neil Yerman is coming back with our Torah for Simchat Torah. Access to kosher food. So, so, much variety in kosher food. And at least 120 Jews, many more than that in fact.  

But I love this verse, According to Rabbi Akiva, a Jewish community also needs to have varieties of fruit, because varieties of fruit illuminate the eyes. This is the second day of Rosh Hashanah. In many Sephardic communities, especially Morocco, they host a Rosh Hashanah seder on the second night. Filled with symbolic foods, it really represents that idea of varieties of fruit (and vegetables) which are symbolic and illuminate the eyes.  

It is based on this verse from the Talmud: “A person should always be accustomed to seeing these on Rosh Hashanah: Squash, and fenugreek, leeks, and chard, and dates, as each of these grows quickly and serves as a positive omen for one’s actions during the coming year.” (Tractate Horyaot 12a) 

The exact order for this seder and even the varieties of symbolic foods may vary from community to community. For example, according to Rahel Musleah who wrote a delightful children’s version of this seder, Apples and Pomegrantes, Jews from Libya mix sugar and sesame seeds instead of using fenugreek or string beans. 

Each blessing over the simanim, signs or symbols, begins with “Yehi ratzon milfanecha Hashem eloheinu v’elohei avoteinu May it be Your will, God and God of our ancestors.” This is followed by a hope for something that will happen in the new year. 

Dates: The Hebrew word for dates, tamar, resembles the word for end, yitamu. Dates represent our desire for our enemies to end their hateful conquests. 

יString beans, fenugreek or beans: The Aramaic word for fenugreek, rubia, is similar to the Hebrew word yirbu, increase.  

יLeeks: In Aramaic, leeks are called karti; the Hebrew term for cutting off is karet. Leeks represent our hopes that our enemies will be “cut off.” 

Swiss chard or beets: Selek is the term for beets in both Hebrew and Aramaic, and it sounds like silek, or “depart.”  

Squash or gourd: The Aramaic word k’ra is reminiscent of the Hebrew words kriah (to tear) and kara (to proclaim/announce). The blessing recited before eating squash or gourd at the seder reflects this dual connection. 

 Pomegranate: In addition to being one of the seven species of Israel, pomegranates have a long history of being symbolic in Judaism. At the Rosh Hashanah seder, their many seeds represent the 613 mitzvot. The seeds can also symbolize the many blessings that we hope will manifest in the coming year. 

Apples dipped in honey: Apples eaten with honey represent our hopes for a sweet new year. 

Fish or sheep head: Rosh Hashanah literally translates as “head of the year,” which is reflected by putting a literal head on the table. I have also seen people use gifilte fish or Swedish Fish.  

Anyone eat red beans and rice for secular New Year’s? What about black eyed peas? It is a similar idea.  

In the back you will find all the “treats” for which you could say Shehechianu. Blessed are you, Lord our G-d, Ruller of the Universe, who has kept us alive and sustained us and enabled us to reach this very moment.  

In planning for this and thinking about the varieties of fruit that make a community, an entire world so wonderful I hear echos of Louis Armstrong: 

I see trees of green
Red roses too
I see them bloom
For me and you
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world 

I see skies of blue
And clouds of white
The bright blessed day
The dark sacred night
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world 

The colors of the rainbow
So pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces
Of people going by
I see friends shaking hands
Saying, “How do you do?”
They’re really saying
I love you 

I hear babies cry
I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more
Than I’ll ever know
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Ooh, yes 

 It is a wonderful world, in all its varieities.

People actively look for things for which to say Shehechianu over. Yesterday we said Shehechianu as a community for Zach’s Torah lifting. Today I am wearing a new skirt, just so I would have something to say Shehechianu over. 

But sometimes it is hard to say Shehechianu. Why am I still here and others not? That question hangs in the air today. 

Today’s Torah portion is challenging. Why does G-d feel the need to test Abraham?  Where does the angel come from? How old really was Isaac? Why does Abraham not consult Sarah? Where is her voice? And why, why does Abraham not question G-d? 

 Sure< one of the most famous midrashim tells us it is a dialogue. Take your son. I have two sons. Take your only son. They are both the only son of their mother. Take the one you love. I love them both. Take Isaac.  

 But that is not completely satisfying because we know from a previous text that Abraham does question G-d. He even has the chutzpah, the audacity to argue with G-d. Remember Sodom and Gemorah? G-d is again angry and is going to destroy Sodom and Gemorah for some perceived infraction. The whole community! But no, Abraham argues. Would you still do it for 50 righteous people? He bargains G-d down to 10. From this we learn the importance of having a minyan. 10 people is the bare minimum for a community. It is what is needed to say Barechu, to read Torah and yes, to say Kaddish.  

I was going to teach more about how saying Kasddish is part of being in community, on Yom Kippur.  

However, I made an early morning decision that I needed to do it this morning instead. Our community has been hit with a number of deaths recently, including two this morning.  

It is said when a person dies on Rosh Hashanah they are a tzadik, or a tzedeket. A righteous person. We learned that when Ruth Bader Ginsberg died on Rosh Hashanah, a perfect designation for someone who was a justice, since tzedek also means justice. But right here in the congregation, we mark the yahrzeits today of Jospeh Zimmerman, Chuck’s father, Paul Sitz, Gaeth’s husband and Lucas Jacob Schwartz.  

Today we mourn with Barb Maring and Ted Frisch who lost Bob this morning. And with Myron and Sarah and Dave Goldman who lost Charlene. 

Our job as a community is to “bury the dead and comfort the bereaved,” We do a good job of this at CKI. We show up. We make sure the community is there. Present. To take care of the needs of the people who are mourning. We meet people where they are. Some people want or need a full experience, with all the rituals, starting with how to prepare a person for burial. Ritual washing, tahara and sitting with the person saying Psalms, bring some comfort. Their person is not alone. Some need to get people from out of town. Some people want a graveside service. Some want a chapel service. Some want no service at all. Some want to participate in the burial by shoveling earth. Some don’t want to see that at all. My tradition is that I always stay until the grave is completely filled as final act of chesed shel emet, an act of lovingkindness that cannot be repaid by the deceased and so the family doesn’t have to worry. For me it is a spiritual discipline. Some want a full shiva, complete with covering mirrors. Some find that too jarring. Some people may be angry. Some people may be relieved. Some people may be estranged from other family members or from the Jewish community. Some people may need silence. Some may need to cry. Some may need to scream. 

This is Rosh Hashanah. It seems clear to me, what I was preparing to say at Yom Kippur, is that part of how we build community is through Kaddish. This prayer, written in Aramaic so that everyone could understand it, never mentions death. It praises G-d for life. People find it incredibly comforting, sometimes even uplifting to be surrounded by members of the community so that they can say Kaddish. Remember we need 10 people for that. In this community, it is defined as 10 adult Jews, men or women. 10 people over the age of 13. There is comfort in the rhythm of the words, in the connections to those who have come before.  

This is Rosh Hashanah. As we spoke about on Erev Rosh Hashanah. it is about change. It is about reflection on the things you have done well and the places you would like to make a change.  

The Dash Poem (By Linda Ellis)
I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on the tombstone
From the beginning…to the end

He noted that first came the date of birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years

For that dash represents all the time
That they spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved them
Know what that little line is worth 

For it matters not, how much we own,
The cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile,
Remembering this special dash
Might only last a little while

So, when your eulogy is being read
With your life’s actions to rehash…
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent YOUR dash? 

Often times, part of my spirituality is to greet the new year with that first sunrise. It is my opportunity to say Shehechianu. It echos years of greeting the sun and the new year on Plum Island with dear friends. Today’s rain precluded that, although I was most certainly up and awake. The rian seems to fit my mood better. However, one of my relatives posted a quote yesterday, “I hope you realize that every day is a fresh start for you. That every sunrise is a new chapter in your life waiting to be written.” 

– Juansen Dizon 

For that we could say shehechianu. Let’s remember that.  

Our job is to meet people where they are…wherever they are. Our job is to be kind. Incredibly kind. As I have said too often this year. Keep watching your emails. You will have the opportunity, too soon, to perform these acts of lovingkindness. When you get those emails, know that you help community, just by showing up.  

L’Shanah Tovah. Happy New Year. The word shanah comes from the same root as the word for change, so wishing someone a L’shanah tovah is hoping that they will have a good year and a good change. No ,not pennies and nickels and dimes. A change in attitude. A change in perspective. A change in behavior. A change to be the best you that you can be.  

This period of time is about reflection and meditation, prayer and music, family and foods that may make us nostalgic. It can be about fear and trepidation. It can be about awe. It is about joy and celebration and hope.  And it is about change. What are the changes YOU want to make in your life? How can YOU be the best YOU that you can be? 

This year our Torah School families set the theme for this coming year, “Coming Together Again: Do Not Separate Yourselves from the Community” The quote comes from Pirke Avot. It was Hillel who said: do not separate yourself from the community.” Other translations are “from the congregation.”  

 We know that the nature of community is changing. The Jewish community and the sociwty at large. That was true even before the pandemic.  

It is changing in a myriad of ways. We could do a deep dive into the Pew Research Study of 2020. https://www.jewishtogether.org/2020pewstud Some high level highlights. Don’t worry. There won’t be a test. 

We are growing. There are more Jews today in the United States, roughly 7.5 million in 2020 compared with 2013, 6.7 million. We tend to feel that being Jewish can be a matter of religion, ancestry or culture or a combination. More say it is about culture. (55%) Which explains why one way we connect, our key word, remember, is through food. 70% of you like “traditional” Jewish food, which as the Pew Study people point out is an elastic term. Apples and honey anyone? Soon. Right here. Again. With a chance to vote for your favorite! And what about those briskets that I heard about all week? You are quite the treasure hunters. And that builds community. How about a full Sephardic Rosh Hashanah seder, with lots of symbolic foods for good luck! We’ll explore that on Sunday. 

American Jews continue to “feel connected” to the Jewish people. 85% feel a great deal or some sens of belonging to the Jewish people. 79% feel a great deal of responsibility to help Jews in need. 76% say being Jewish is very or somewhat important to them. But here are the kickers—only 15% say that observing Jewish law is important. And only 35% of those who identify with a Jewish denomination or movement of stream of Judaism are synagogue members. And yet, 62% prioritize sharing holidays or cultural events with non-Jews. 57% visit synagogues and other historic Jewish sites while traveling. Some of you did that this summer. I certainly enjoyed all those pictures! And as I have said before, the most popular religious expression is attending a seder. 62%. Followed by attending a Jewish life cycle event, lighting a yahrseit candle or fasting on Yom Kippur.  

So, if it is about connection…and people are not necessarily joining synagogues, what do people want in a community? What sets this community apart from other places you may belong? Those are the kind of things that we will explore in the next 10 days. 

Now I may be preaching to the choir, because you are the ones who are here. Fully engaged. All of this has implications for us, right here, right now, at CKI as we embrace diversity and serve the Jewish community, here in the Fox River Valley.  

Over the next 10 days, the next year we are coming together to explore what it means to be a community. To be in community. To belong.  

Do you belong? Do you feel you belong here? Anywhere? 

You may belong to a health club, a soccer or baseball team, a PTO, a dance troupe, an online forum or interest group, even a political party and even those form some kinds of community. But it is not the same as being connected here. 

The Talmud (Shevuot 39a), teaches in discussing the domino effect of sin, concludes with the Aramaic phrase, Kol yisrael arevim zeh bazeh, meaning all of Israel, all Jews are responsible for each other. But is more than worrying about sin. It is about taking care of one another, in good times—like the birth of a baby or in bad, like helping families mourn when tragedy strikes. 

Let’s start with some basic definitions: 

Belong:
to be attached or bound by birth, allegiance, or dependency. usually used with to. they belong to their homeland. to be a member of a club, organization, or group. 

Community: 

• a group of people living in the same place or having a particular characteristic in common. “the scientific community” attitudes, interests values and goals.  
• a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, values and goals.  “the sense of community that organized religion can provide.” 

Both have a sense of connection. And that seems right. What people seem to want from community and from religion is a sense of connection. The word religion comes from the Latin, religio, to tie back up into, or to be connected. Emerson talked about this in one of his essays. The idea that when we leave our homes of origin, we go searching for something to replace that sense of love and belonging. 

Psalm 27 which the Bromets will read shortly, has a verse that says, “Though my father and mother leave me, the LORD will take me in.” Let that sink in. G-d will take you in. G-d loves you. G-d created you. And G-d will take you in. That brings us hope. But not just G-d, but your community. This community. Religion and the Jewish Community are an opportunity to find YOUR place, Your home, Your meaning in the world after the security (we hope) of being a child with your mother and your father.  

 And then we offer such hope and consolation to the person sitting next to us—or maybe even on Zoom. Our technology communities are one way, or many ways we stay connected. Community is about being kind. It is about being present. It is about being non-judgmental, About safe spaces. It’s about meeting people where they are, wherever they are on their journey. 

 Hillel also teaches, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me. If I am only for myself, what am I and if not now when,”  

 So maybe what distinguishes the Jewish community from other communities, is being there for one another, in good times and bad. New opportunities to engage with Judaism, with G-d, with other Jews and community keep emerging. Perhaps you like meditating. Try Institute of Jewish Spirituality. Perhaps you like Shabbat dinner with friends. One Table will be happy to supply you with all the things you need. Perhaps you are concerned about rising anti-semitism. Check out organizations like the ADL or Stop the Hate whose buttons are on the back table. Perhaps Israel is your core focus. Check out any number of Israel focused organizations and agencies. Perhaps you have young children or grandchildren. PJ Library, Kveller, are great places to start and I am especially proud of our Chai Babies group. They are really building community. So do the Torah School parents, every week they sit here and schmoze and drink coffee while their kids are in school. 

One of the new organizations to emerge has edgy billboards. One is up on 294, near Dempster. “So you eat bacon. G-d has bigger things to worry about. JewBelong.” They want to appeal to a younger crowd that may be as they say disengaged Jews. Their website and their billboards are captivating. 

https://www.jewbelong.com/why-jewbelong/  

 Each of us brings something to the community. Each of us has a gift to share. Each of us helps build this place. But what if we don’t share.  

 There is a Jewish folktale that illustrates this: 

 “There was once a king who was visiting a town. In preparation for the king’s visit the town decided to fill a giant barrel with wine and present it to the king upon his arrival. Where were they going to get so much wine to fill the giant barrel? They came up with a brilliant idea; each family of the town would bring one flask filled with wine and pour it into the giant barrel and this way the barrel would fill with wine. 

They placed a Giant barrel in the center of the town with a ladder reaching to the top and every day people lined up to pour their flask of wine into the barrel. 

The day finally arrived and the king visited the town. The people were so excited to present the king with this wonderful gift. The king was shown the barrel and was given a kingly goblet. They filled his goblet with wine from the giant barrel. The towns people were shocked by the look on the king’s face as he drank the wine, the king was obviously very unhappy. When asked why he was so unhappy he responded, “It’s just plain water”. 

It turns out that each family thought to themselves why should I be the one to pour in a flask of wine I will pour in water instead, I am sure no one will notice if there is just one flask of water among all that wine. Everyone in the town made the same calculation and so no one poured in wine but rather water instead. Everyone was relying on someone else” https://www.chabadofmv.com/templates/blog/post_cdo/aid/1086982/postid/17549  

There are several versions of this story. Sometimes it is a King. Sometimes it is rabbi, It doesn’t matter, although king seems appropriate for Rosh Hashanah, since we talk about this being the day where we coronate the king. 

There are many gifts we bring to build this Holy Place, our community. We may bring wine. We may bring challah. We may bring apples or honey or table clothes or even toilet bowl cleaner and toilet paper. We hope that we may bring the gift of ourselves. Debbie Friendman, of blessed memory wrote a song, Holy Place, to illustrate this: 

These are the gifts that we bring
that we may build a holy place.
This is the spirit that we bring
that we may build a holy place.
We will bring all the goodness
that comes from our hearts
And the spirit of God will dwell within….. 

These are the colours of our dreams
we bring to make a holy place.
This is the weaving of our lives
we bring to make a holy place.
We will bring all the goodness
that comes from our hearts
And the spirit of love will dwell within….. 

These are the prayers that we bring
that we may make a holy place.
These are the visions that we seek
that we may build this holy place.
Let our promise forever be strong,
let our souls rise together in song,
that the spirit of God
and the spirit of love,
Shechinah,
will dwell within. 

If community is about connection, then we build connection one person at a time, one story at a time, one life cycle event at a time. It’s like the old bar Cheers where everyone knows your name, but more than your name. Your story, your essence, your Torah.  

On the back table you will find friendship bracelets. Little pieces of yarn to remind you that you are connected. That you belong. That you have a friend. Please feel free to take one and wear it proudly.  

Pirke Avot also teaches, “Ours is not to finish the task. Neither are we free to ignore it.” When you move to the back of the room to enjoy apples and honey and vote for your favorite one, you will be building community and connection. Sure, say shana tova to your friends who you may not have seen in too long. But make sure that you also introduce to someone you may not know.  

It is no secret that I like the little service of the High Holy Days. The private moments. The more intimate experiences. Last night a group of us gathered both in person and on Zoom to begin selichot services. Typically held late on the Saturday before Rosh Hashanah, it is one way we “get in the mood.” There are differences between how the Sephardic communities and the Ashkenazi communities do selichot. And most liberal Jewish communities have no fixed liturgy.

Sometimes it features some of the upcoming tunes, the nusach you will hear during the course of the season. Sometimes it features a dinner. Sometimes it features readings or a workshop, writing or art. So much of the concepts of the High Holy Days is so cerebral it can be hard to understand. Music, art, poetry are ways to get us out of our heads and perhaps into the emotions of the prayers themselves. Some congregations show a movie. That has had mixed responses in this congregation but that was the direction the ritual committee and I chose to use this year. 

 The first part of the evening was changing the blue linnens to white. It is always a special moment when that is completed. It was lovely to have five of us working together to make the sanctuary look beautiful.  

 There is something magical about selichot, the late night, the dim lights, the approaching holiday all seem to be evocative. It gives me a chance to focus, to center, to really prepare.  

We began with havdalah with people bringing their own lighted, separate candle to one another and to light the havdalah flame. It was beautiful. Then it was my intent to show the movie, “Lilies of the Field.” But while havdalah worked on Zoom, the Zoomers couldn’t hear the audio on the video so we went to the remaining part of the selichot service. That full service follows. 

One of our members brought a lovely reading from Rami Shapiro about Hineini that I will have to track down. You might hear it again later in the season. 

But what about Lillies of the Field. If you never saw it, it came out in 1963 starring Sidney Portier. It seems like an improbable movie to show on the wall of a Jewish sanctuary. Even projecting a cross or having nuns bless themselves. But nobody raised those objections.  

By now you might be wondering, why did I pick this movie. It is about a community—a diverse community coming together to build a church. Isn’t that what we do at CKI—we come together to build our Jewish community. Not a church, but in this case a synagogue. 

The movie has many diverse people, Sidney Portier is black and even points that out. He’s a poor itinerant handyman whose car runs out of water. There are five German nuns who have escaped over the wall in Berlin to land in this G-dforsaken desert. There is an Irish Catholic itinerant priest. Juan, the Hispanic restaurant owner, a host of Hispanic “villagers” and there is the white owner of the road construction company. And all of the languages, with no subtitles to go with it, English, German, Spanish and even southern English!  

 The head nun, The Mother, eventually called Mama, wants Homer to help fix their roof. (Can you say Fiddler on the Roof? Or our own roof campaign?) He does that and then wants to be paid. She wants him to sleep there and do more. Some tension—a lot of tension–about what it means to be paid and when. One egg and a cup of milk is a “Catholic breakfast” and not really payment and not nearly enough food.  

But the ice seems to break when he offers English lessons, rather than listening to the “phonograph” on a record. Much better and more fun than the staid lesson. The younger nuns even smile. 

One of those lessons included “I build the church. You build the church. HE builds the church. We build the church.” The idea was that they all build the church together. Or maybe G-d will provide and HE will build the church. Is it faith in G-d. Faith in the one individual? Faith in the community? Or just insurance?  

This movie has much to say about racism and diversity and welcoming people. Much to say about building community. And for me it was a piece of lifelong learning this year.  

What are the implications for us? I remain enthralled by thinking about this. It is worth the watch and a great kick off to the High Holy Days.  

Selichot and Welcome Back Havdalah 5783 

Welcome  

Heveinu Shalom Aleichem
Heveinu Shalom Aleichem,
Aleichem Heveinu Shalom
Hiney Ma Tov U Manaim
Shevet Achim Gam Yachad. 

 Ashrei
Ash-rei yosh-vei vei-te-cha – od y’-ha-l’-lu-cha se-la.
Happy are they who dwell in Your house; they are always praising You. (Psalm 84:5)  

 Or zarua
Or zarua latzadik uleyishrei lev simcha.
(light is sown for the righteous and joy for the upright in heart) 

 Havdalah
Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha’olam borei prei hagafen.
Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, Creator of the fruit of the vine. 

Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha’olam borei minei v’samim.
Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, Creator of varied spices

Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha’olam borei m’orei ha’esh.
Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, Creator of the lights of fire. 

Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, hamavdil bein kodesh l’chol, bein or l’choshech, bein yom hashvi’i l’sheishet yamei hama’aseh. Baruch atah Adonai hamavdil bein kodesh l’chol. 

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the universe who makes distinctions between holy and everyday, between light and darkness, between Shabbat and the six days of work. Blessed are You, who distinguishes between holy and everyday. 

Eliyahu hanavi
Eliyahu hatishbi
Eliyahu hagiladi
Bimheirah b’yameinu
Yavo eilenu
Im Mashiach ben David 

A good week, a week of peace
May gladness reign and joy increase. 

The Gates
The gates are opening. 
A transition in time:
notice and walk through. 

Tonight we open ourselves
to possibility, to becoming
better than we were before.
Tonight we prepare
to breathe into our changes
and begin anew. 

Tonight we turn from despair
and open toward hope, even if
we aren’t certain,
even if we feel wobbly as fawns
learning to bound
across an open summer field. 

 Tonight we turn from inattention
and open toward awe, even if
we don’t remember the way. 

The gates are opening
above a sapphire floor.
God waits. Will we come in?
     Rabbi Rachel Barenblatt 

 Selichot 

Rosh Hashanah 17b:5
The verse states: “And the Lord passed by before him, and proclaimed” (Exodus 34:6). Rabbi Yoḥanan said: Were it not explicitly written in the verse, it would be impossible to say this, as it would be insulting to God’s honor. The verse teaches that the Holy One, Blessed be He, wrapped Himself in a prayer shawl like a prayer leader and showed Moses the structure of the order of the prayer. He said to him: Whenever the Jewish people sin, let them act before Me in accordance with this order. Let the prayer leader wrap himself in a prayer shawl and publicly recite the thirteen attributes of mercy, and I will forgive them. 

 Adonai Adonai 

יְהֹוָ֣ה ׀ יְהֹוָ֔ה אֵ֥ל רַח֖וּם וְחַנּ֑וּן אֶ֥רֶךְ אַפַּ֖יִם וְרַב־חֶ֥סֶד וֶאֱמֶֽת׃ (ז) נֹצֵ֥ר חֶ֙סֶד֙ לָאֲלָפִ֔ים נֹשֵׂ֥א עָוֺ֛ן וָפֶ֖שַׁע וְחַטָּאָ֑ה וְנַקֵּה֙ 

 Adonai, Adonai, Eyl rahum v’hanun, ereh apa-yim v’rav hesed ve-emet. No-tzeyr hesed la-alafim, nosey avon va-fe-sha v’hata-a v’nakey. 

Adonai, Adonai You tube video

 Avinu Malkeenu:
Avinu Malkeinu chaneinu va’aneinu, ki ein banu ma-a-sim,
aseih imanu tz’dakah vachesed v’hoshi-einu. 

 Avinu Malkeinu, be gracious and answer us, for we have little merit. Treat us generously and with kindness, and be our help. 

Eternal One of forgiveness
Searcher of hearts
Revealer of deep thoughts
Proclaimer of righteousness
Good and benevolent to Your creatures
Knower of all secrets
Provider for the righteous
We have sinned before You
Be merciful with us. 

Sh’ma Koleinu 

שְׁמַע קוֹלֵֽנוּ יהוה אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ, חוּס וְרַחֵם עָלֵֽינוּ, וְקַבֵּל בּרַחֲמיִם וּבְרָצוֹן אֶת־תְּפִלָּתֵֽנוּ. הֲשִׁיבֵֽנוּ יהוה אֵלֶֽיךָ וְנָשֽׁוּבָה חַדֵּשׁ יָמֵֽינוּ כְּקֶֽדֶם. הֲשִׁיבֵֽנוּ יהוה אֵלֶֽיךָ וְנָשֽׁוּבָה חַדֵּשׁ יָמֵֽינוּ כְּקֶֽדֶם. אַל־תַּשְׁלִיכֵֽנוּ לְעֵת זִקְנָה כִּכְלוֹת כֹּחֵֽנוּ אַל־תַּעַזְבֵֽנוּ. 

Sh-ma ko-lei-nu A-do-nai E-lo-hei-nu, chus v’ra-cheim a-lei-nu, v’ka-beil b’ra-cha-mim, uv-ra-tson et-t’fi-la-tei-nu. Ha-shi-vei-nu A-do-nai e-le-cha v’na-shu-vah, cha-deish ya-mei-nu k’ke-dem. Al tash-li-chei-nu, l’eit zik-nah kich-lot ko-ch-einu, al ta-az-vei-nu. 

Hear us, Adonai our God, have compassion upon us and with that compassion, accept our prayer.
Help us to return to You, O God; then truly we shall return. Renew our days as in the past.
Consider our word; look into our inmost thoughts.
Do not cast us away from Your presence; do not remove Your holy spirit.
Do not dismiss us when we are old; as our strength diminishes, do not abandon us.
Loving God, do not abandon us; do not be far from us.
For You, O God, do we wait; and You, our God will answer. 

 Hashiveinu
Return O Israel, to your Eternal God;
return, all who have stumbled.
For this says the Eternal God,
the Holy One of Israel;
In returning, in peace shall you triumph;
in calm trust you shall find strength.
You are a stronghold to the poor,
a shelter from the storm,
a shade from the heat.
Infinite God, reach out to me;
let me return to You,
let me come to You.
I am alone.
Alone.
Empty-handed.
Afraid of myself.
Let me come to You.
Reach out to me.
You are a shelter from the storm,
a shade from the heat.
Return O Israel, to your Eternal God.
Behold how the Eternal One does great things with this people!
Behold the Most High, who heaps miracle upon wonder!
Return O Israel, return!
You are a stronghold to the poor,
a crown of glory to all who stumble and fall,
to all who rise and return! 

הֲשִׁיבֵ֨נוּ יְהוָ֤ה ׀ אֵלֶ֙יךָ֙ ונשוב [וְֽנָשׁ֔וּבָה] חַדֵּ֥שׁ יָמֵ֖ינוּ כְּקֶֽדֶם׃ 

Take us back, O LORD, to Yourself, And we will come back; Renew our days as of old! (Lamentations 5:21) 

 Summer Day
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life? 

     Mary Oliver 

Shofar
Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha-olam asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu lishmoa kol shofar. 

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the universe, who has made us holy with commandments, and who has commanded us to hear the voice of the shofar. 

 Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha-olam shehecheyanu v’kiyimanu v’higiyanu lazman ha-zeh. 

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the universe, for giving us life, for sustaining us, and for enabling us to reach this season.

Oh Lord, let this new year be for us and for our children a year of awe and amazement, blessing, courage, compassion and creativity. May we dream boldly, exhibit empathy, enjoy families, friendship and fun. May we be generous, gracious and grateful, honest and hopeful. May we be blessed with intelligence and ingenuity, joyfulness and justice. May we be kind. May we love and be loved. May we experience music and motherhood and nature. May we be optimistic. May we be patient and persistent. May we experience quietude, respect and reverence. May we be sincere and spiritually fulfilled. May we embrace your Torah. May we be united in Your service to improve the world around us. May this be a year of vigor and wisdom, yearning and zeal for good causes. May we be blessed as we go on our way
Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein

With many thanks to the Bayit for some of these modern words.

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