And on the seventh day, G-d rested.

On the sixth day the Israelites received a double portion of food when they were wandering in the wilderness so they wouldn’t have to collect manna on Shabbat. Manna is seen as a gift from G-d. In fact the word manna means gift.

Shabbat is also a gift. A gift of time. A chance to catch our breath. To rest up. To set a different pace.

As a rabbi, Shabbat for me is a work day. I jokingly asked Simon if he thought anyone would notice if I didn’t show up. He reminded me that this was a three Torah morning. So I went.

As I prepared yet another breakfast and raced out the door, I thought again about all those single parents sometimes working more than one job just to make ends meet who do not have the luxury of Shabbat. While it is luxury at some levels, much has been written about why having a day off a week (two days are even better), actually helps people be more productive. Yet, despite the efforts of many groups, especially unions, this is still considered a privilege, not a right. If you are juggling more than one job, it is even less likely that you will have a real day off. You might be off from one job and not the other.

Every week we sing at services we sing “V’shamru”, joyfully proclaiming the words from Exodus 31, “The people of Israel shall keep the Sabbath, observing the Sabbath for all generations. It is a sign of the covenant between Me and the people of Israel for is six days Adonai made heaven and earth and on the seventh day G-d rested.”

Ahad Ha’am, the early Zionist said that “Just as Israel has kept the Sabbath, so has the Sabbath kept Israel.”

There is another prayer that says, “Those who keep the Sabbath and call it a delight shall rejoice in Your kingdom. The people that hallow the Sabbath will delight in Your goodness. For being pleased with the seventh day, You hallowed it and made it the most precious, special of days, to remember the work of Creation.

That sense of Oneg Shabbat—the delight, the joy of the Sabbath—I definitely experienced this week. We loved having our potluck dinner and opening our home. The food was good—and the conversation even better. We all left full, delighting in each other’s company.

Oneg Shabbat has also come to be the term for the food following the Friday evening service. It too was a delight. Plentiful and varied. And something for which to give thanks. The Sisterhood who sponsors it each week. The shoppers who make sure the food appears. And Susan who artfully arranges it, serves it and cleans up after us.

On Saturday morning following services there is more food. Kiddush. Which is really the term for the blessing over the wine, which sanctifies time and space. (More on that later since that is exactly what I talked about this week!). This week we had a sponsored Kiddush in honor of someone’s 80^th birthday. Those are almost a luncheon with bagels, lox, cream cheese and all the fixings, egg salad, two kinds of herring, veggies and dip, and lots of sweets. It is fun to celebrate happy events in community this way. And more to be thankful for.

Shabbat afternoon there is actually a third meal. Seudah shlisheet. We were able to join with Ruth Messinger again for a discussion of the book “In the Shadows of the Banyan” about Cambodia and her most recent trip to Cambodia. When we walked in, she asked how our food challenge was going. We said that we were doing fine and in fact had saved $10 for precisely this event. However, we wound up not spending any of it, enjoying instead, just the good conversation and people’s reflections on Cambodia. We did not feel deprived since there was pastries and coffee available. I just didn’t feel like I needed more carbs or more coffee at 4PM. Nonetheless, like every day this week, I had my 4PM headache.

Places like synagogues, coffee houses, libraries, provide low cost or no cost entertainment and good intellectual stimulation. There must be other options too but we didn’t have time to find them this week. My mother swore by playgrounds. All of these are other ways to stretch budgets.

And all too soon, Shabbat was over and it was back to the real work world. Prepping for Hebrew School, readying flyers for a program at Costco called Matzah in the Aisle and sadly counseling a family that had just lost a loved one. A very late dinner of lentil stew, the stuff Jacob and Esau fought over. Ours was only 100 calories and $.55 a serving. And again, luckily for me and my schedule Simon made it. Healthy, hearty, warm on a cold spring night. Time for bed.

One of the questions that has come up is how to maintain social connections while on SNAP. It isn’t easy. There is a lack of resources. Issues with organization. Time management. Really time crunches. And perhaps a sense of embarrassment or shame.

But we wondered, would it be possible to at least have a potluck dinner? At least for the people who were doing the SNAP Challenge with us, as a way of saying thank you and to continue the conversation?

So we did. We scheduled it for Friday night, before our usual Friday night service at the synagogue. It is traditional to have guests for Friday night and frankly this is something that I miss doing more routinely as a pulpit rabbi. Our service is at 7:30 and I aim to be there at 7. Many weeks I don’t even eat dinner on Friday night.

There are several stories about people scrimping and saving all week, just to make Shabbat the nicest possible. Based on a Talmudic tale, there are two children’s books. My daughter grew up loving “Joseph who loved the Sabbath”, by Marilyn Hirsh. Eric Kimmel has another version, “Joseph and the Sabbath Fish.”

Here is the story from Tractate Shabbat 119a:
“Joseph-who-honors-the Sabbath had in his vicinity a certain gentile who owned much property. Soothsayers told him: “Joseph-who-honors-the-Sabbath will consume all your property. So he went, sold all his property, and bought a precious stone with the proceeds, which he set in his turban. As he was crossing a bridge the wind blew it off and cast it into the water and a fish swallowed it. Subsequently the fish was hauled up and brought to market on the Sabbath towards sunset. ”Who will buy now?” they cried. “Go and take it to Joseph-who-honors-the Sabbath,” they were told, “as he is accustomed to buy.” So they took it to him. He bought it, opened it, found the jewel therein, and sold it for thirteen roomfuls of gold denarii. A certain old man met him and said, “He who lends to the Sabbath, the Sabbath repays him.””

Then there is the story of preparing for Shabbat. When we welcome the Shabbat angels by singing Shalom Aleichem, the story is told that Rabbi Jose the son of Judah said, two ministering angels — one good angel, and one “evil” (prosecuting) angel — accompany a person home on Friday night from the synagogue.
When they arrive home, if they find a candle lit, the table set, and beds arranged nicely the good angel says, “May it be G-d’s will that next Shabbat be the same,” and the evil angel is compelled to respond, “Amen!” If the home is not prepared in honor of Shabbat, the evil angel says, “May it be G-d’s will that next Shabbat be the same,” and the good angel is compelled to respond, “Amen!” (Shabbat 119b)
And finally, from the Jerusalem Talmud, we get this story, “The Emperor (probably Hadrian) asked Rabbi Joshua Ben Hananiah, “What gives your Sabbath meal such an aroma?” To this R. Joshua replied, “We have a certain spice (tavlin) called the Sabbath which we put into it [the Sabbath dish], and this gives it its aroma.”

So that’s what we did. We cleaned the house. We picked up all the paper. We saved our chicken to roast until Friday. It easily stretched to serve our guests. We made potatoes and cauliflower. A guest contributed a lovely tossed salad, another a medley of sugar snap peas and carrots and another a challah. I had forgotten about drinks but people were fine with water.

And yes, Shabbat has never tasted so good.

Earlier in the day, I trekked into Chicago again. This time it was to have lunch with rabbis and Ruth Messinger, the president of American Jewish World Service. She was in town to speak at two congregations ahead of her becoming AJWS’s “Global Ambassador” a new title created just for her. Her portfolio will include working with rabbis and traveling to visit grantees. The new president, Robert Bank, will be equally impressive.

The lunch was at Chicago Sinai and several of the rabbis already knew I was doing the challenge. They asked whether it was permissible to eat the food provided. Others have written about this topic. In a strict SNAP Challenge the rule seems to be no. If you accept food like this during the challenge you are “supposed” to count it against your total. However, many on SNAP benefits stretch their budget by searching out other meals and resources. So yes, I ate the bagel.

The real focus of lunch, however, was Ruth’s update. I like the direction AJWS is headed. I am proud to be associated with them. And glad I spent so much time bouncing on that bus in Guatemala talking about the SNAP Challenge. Perhaps the biggest victory will be if Representative Peter Roskam actually does sign onto the Global Food Security Act as he promised the representative from Bread for the World.

And if you missed it. Here is the link to the Windy City Live appearance: http://abc7chicago.com/food/snap-challenge-elgin-rabbi-eats-on-just-$4-a-day/1282510/

Up really early to make an appearance on WindyCityLive that will air on Friday, April 8. I am amazed that people are this interested in this challenge. And make no mistake, it is a challenge, it is not a game.

There are a few things from yesterday that are worth commenting on.

I left the house 20 minutes later than I intended because I made my breakfast—two eggs, cheese and a scallion scrambled, served in a whole wheat tortilla, which I ate in the car. While I was not late to Harper, I never felt like I caught up all day.

Parking at Harper was an issue. It always is. That’s why I thought I needed those 20 minutes. I talked a campus police officer into NOT ticketing me because I was speaking. But that seemed not quite right. (I parked in a staff lot beyond the guest lot which was full)

The coffee that people were drinking looked excellent. Well, actually I didn’t see the coffee just the cups. I’m going to have to rethink Starbucks.

My appointment after Harper was late. 45 minutes. Even though I had tangerines with me, this put me at a house disadvantage for the rest of the day. I did actually “cheat” meeting her at yet another coffee shop because it was closer to where I was going to have to be and ordering an apple fritter which I think the manager discounted it calling it the SNAP discount–$1.75 which actually fits in my remaining food budget. Real people living on SNAP all the time must also get caught in these scheduling “nightmares.””

Thank G-d for my husband, Simon, who is a willing partner and a really good cook. He brought me the lunch I had carefully planned out, cottage cheese and chopped vegetables. He threw in a little box of raisins we had around the house and I “stole” potato chips from the Hebrew School. Later even though I said I would make corn chowder, he turned a cheap cut of meat into Chinese stir fry and rice. Again, it was a timing question.

I got lost in time when WindyCityLive called and wanted to do a feature on me. As many times as I say this challenge is not about me, it is about awareness and advocacy, people are intrigued by what I could possibly eat for $4.44. So I will be traipsing into Chicago to tape a segment. That meant finding pictures and getting out the seder plates.

Hebrew School. These late afternoons are the hardest. It is hard to teach when you are hungry. And really, I am not really hungry. But why then do I have a headache? Yes, late afternoon hot chocolate seems to help. At least temporarily—and we didn’t really plan for that. And yet, we had some in the house and in my office.

I have a colleague, Rabbi Cindy Enger, who opted not do the SNAP Challenge this time. Her approach instead as she prepares for Passover is a Zero Waste Passover. I know that my New Year’s Resolution was to waste far less food then we do. Most Americans waste a lot of food. 70 billion pounds of food in America, according to Feeding America. That’s 70 billion! Like Rabbi Enger, and many other Jews, I try to use up open packaged food before Passover. This year, with the SNAP Challenge I am even more aware (and more committed to Zero Waste. Really, remember the open containers of olives in my fridge? There were actually six. Two black olives, 2 Spanish olives. One green olives stuffed with blue cheese. One kalamata.) We have finished one, a jar of raspberry jam, the last of the soy sauce and a container of SmartBalance.)

I am also not spending money on other things. For instance, this morning, I opted to take the train into Chicago. Paying to park (again, thanks to my husband, because I could not figure out how that machine works and I am hoping my credit card did not get debited seven times!) and walking from Union Station to the television studio. On SNAP I couldn’t have afforded a cab!

When I emerged from the train I was immediately approached by someone who hoped I would help him buy a sandwich. I explained I couldn’t. I did pack a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for the trip home that I might have given him but after yesterday I was worried I would be short—and I did in fact eat it on the way home. So many people, so many very hungry. Am I helping any of them? Should I have given my sandwich away to someone who really needed it?

Similarly, one of my non-food rewards is a massage. After running a race on Sunday, that might have been nice Tuesday. But no massage on SNAP.

And while I walked from Union Station to State and Lake, I am not getting the same amount of exercise I got last week even. Again, I think it is the constant focus on food and timing. I am hopeful that I can today. Maybe today…

It really bothers me that people are so interested in can I make it on the SNAP Challenge. Perhaps it does make a good human interest story. Perhaps it does raise awareness. But it is not so important: What am I eating? Is it enough? Are you hungry? Can I give you food? This story was not supposed to be about me.

It is supposed to be about the hard work that many people do on the front lines, day in and day out. Gretchen, Maureen, Kerri, Ruth, Kim, Michelle, Debbie, Amit and Judith and David. The ones who work tirelessly to make sure that people do have enough food. That smile. That offer compassion. That work for the systemic changes necessary. So, so many, too many to name them all.

And the real story is that people have to do this day in and day out. And SNAP benefits alone often don’t cut it. People who are on SNAP often have to scrounge for food and other necessities in other places. They rely on food banks, the Community Crisis Center, Food for Greater Elgin, Salvation Army, Red Cross, United Way, individual churches and synagogues, soup kettles and all the volunteers who serve.

Recently I received a phone call from someone who had been part of my global justice fellowship with American Jewish World Service. “Are you still in Peter Roskam’s district?” Yes, I answered. She is now working on global food insecurity issues and needed someone for a panel honoring the Congressman’s work on hunger. I readily agreed and it turned out to be this week. So on a rainy morning, I schlepped to Harper College to join a small panel from the Global Poverty Project to speak about global food insecurity. What follows are my remarks…

As David said, I am Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein, the rabbi at Congregation Kneseth Israel in Elgin. I am honored to be on this panel to honor Representative Peter Roskam with whom I have worked on several issues already. Hunger is an issue I have been working, dare I say on a college campus, for 30 years. It is shocking to me that hunger has gotten worse, not only globally, but right here in Elgin. There are 19,000 food insecure people in Elgin and despite good work by agencies like the Community Crisis Center, Food for Greater Elgin, United Way, Salvation Army, PADs, and others who we at Congregation Kneseth Israel partner with, food insecurity remains an intractable issue..

Our congregation works on food issues doing several things. We have our own little food bank which members can take food with no questions asked. We grow fresh produce in our community garden, just a simple 8×16 plot from which we delivered 1100 pounds of fresh produce to Food for Greater Elgin last year. We host an annual food drive during our high holidays, and then again the citywide Martin Luther King Day food drive. We volunteer with Food for Greater Elgin, PADs and the Elgin Cooperative Ministries which provides the weekly soup kitchens. Last summer we worked weekly with ECM to deliver lunches to children who otherwise without their school lunch program might have gone hungry. We are a partner with Mazon, a Jewish response to hunger, Part of the reason we like supporting Mazon, is their commitment to advocacy. While it is important to feed the hungry person sitting before you today—it is critical that we solve the systemic problem of hunger in America and around the world. Otherwise we are just putting on bandaids.

This comes naturally to us. We are commanded to take care of the widow, the orphan, the stranger amongst us, or as I say the most marginalized amongst us. 36 times it tells us to do this. We are to leave the corners of our fields so that the poor can glean. Most of us don’t have fields, but that is the exact reason, the root you might say, of why we put in a community garden.

It is also the reason I am currently doing the SNAP Challenge, living this week on a food stamp budget to call awareness to this growing problem in this country. Others in the congregation and the wider community are doing it with me and while we are only on Day Three, the learnings have been many. Yesterday I spent a lot of time thinking about how one is social on a limited budget. How do you celebrate a child’s birthday? Because buying a store bought birthday cake would have put us over our budget.

And while there are 19,000 food insecure people in Elgin, hunger is a global problem. That’s why it is so important to support the Global Food Security Act, introduced into Congress by Representative Christopher Smith, Republican from NJ and co-sponsored by 123 members of Congress including almost all the representatives from Illinois.

According to the World Health Organization, poor nutrition causes almost half, 45% of all deaths in children under 5. One out of six children in the developing world is underweight, about 100 million. One in four children is “stunted”, that number grows to 1 in 3 in the developing world. We could sit here and discuss statistics all day. And they are alarming.

We know unequivocally from the research that children who are malnourished have a harder time learning. We know that children who are malnourished can suffer from Failure to Thrive. My own rabbi’s wife, Dr. Deborah Frank, is the Director of the Grow Clinic at Boston Medical Center. She recently won the AMA’s Leadership Award presented here in Chicago at their annual convention. She said, in accepting that award that, “As a pediatrician I can never forget that the policies enacted in the capitals of our nation and our states will be written ultimately on the bodies and brains of our young children,”

Her recent research as the director of the Children’s HealthWatch team has uncovered alarming evidence about the increasing risk of hunger among young children nationally, ever since budget cuts have been made to SNAP. In Boston, particularly they have found more and more families of infants and toddlers who are homeless or having difficulty maintaining secure housing. Recent work of Children’s HealthWatch also uncovered that within groups of poor families, those whose children have chronic health problems are even more likely than their peers to struggle with hunger.

If you need more details and more correlation from her work, I have electronic links to her actual academic and professional articles available. When I told her I was speaking this morning and asked whether she had any particular message, she said she didn’t know as much about global food insecurity but what concerns her, having just returned from yet another hunger summit, is the connection between violence and hunger. “War causes hunger. That’s what we are seeing in Syria. People don’t have reliable access to food. If they don’t have access to food, the children can’t go to school. They can’t learn. The families become refugees. It is that simple.” She couldn’t have been any clearer.

She also worries about scorched earth issues. If people can’t farm, they can’t eat. These are the kinds of things I saw when I was a Global Justice Fellow with American Jewish World Service last summer when I was in Guatemala. Guatemala is only one example of many of the 19 countries that AJWS works in. The unique specifics are horrific. In Guatemala, 200,000 people, mostly indigenous people, were murdered or “disappeared: in the 1980s as part of a civil war. Make no mistake, there was nothing civil about it and there are still leaders being disposed and tried for genocide.

One of the real issues remaining as is that access to land is denied. Mining companies have been brutal is stripping away land from indigenous people. One of AJWS’s grantees, CCDA, use coffee and advocacy to secure land rights for indigenous people. Leocadio Juracan, the coordinator recently was elected to Congress. He said, “we’re not just in the business of buying and selling coffee. We are using resources we have to work for justice in our communities.” What impressed me the day we were on the coffee plantation, was how they use education to improve the lives of women. Many of whom have never been to school but are learning to grow food on their patios in container gardens, not unlike CKI’s own community garden. One woman told us that with the proceeds of her patio garden and the one chicken she was able to send her daughter through high school. Wow! Access to land, to food, to education.

But there is a problem. Despite the good work that CCDA is doing, there are arrest warrants out for many of the leaders. No matter how heated our current political season has become, we are not rounding up and arresting our leaders.

Moral leadership is about taking risks. If I am not challenging my people to work on issues like hunger, I am not doing my job. Although frankly, I don’t understand how anyone could argue that children should go to bed hungry. Nonetheless, sometimes, I make people angry with my activism. Sometimes, maybe even often, the congressman and I do not agree on individual policy. However, if I don’t agree, I can’t have him arrested. I can’t have him disappeared. I have to work with him, and he with me. But on this I think we do agree, stopping violence, through strong legal measures as suggested in the book the Locust Effect by Gary Haugen is critical to stopping world hunger. Recently there were two murders in Honduras of AJWS grantees. Berta Cáceres and Nelson García, leaders of the Civic Council of Popular and Indigenous Organisations of Honduras (COPINH). These two defenders of human rights were assassinated because they led an organization and a broader movement fighting to protect the land rights of the Lenca indigenous communities in Honduras.We have asked our US elected officials to demand justice in Hondoras.

Moral leadership is why I have to support the Global Food Security Act which puts some of those strong measures and food assistance in place. So that more Guatemalas, Hondorases, Darfurs, Syrias cannot happen. So that as the prophet Isaiah said, “Every one neath their vine and fig tree can live in peace and unafraid.” So that every child can have a birthday cake.

Today was the day I knew would be long and complicated. Once a month I have a program called Java and Jews. I sit at various local coffee shops and discuss the issues of the day with whomever turns up.

I explained to each of the managers what I was doing last week and that while I would be there, I would not actually be eating or drinking. I ate my oatmeal at home and set off.

My first event of the day was at Starbucks. I walked in with my carefully brewed coffee from home in its bright purple Starbucks travel mug. I sat down and waited. No one said anything to me. I looked just like every other Starbucks customer, checking email on my laptop. My usual baristas smiled at me. Asked how my day was.

I enjoyed my conversation with a new congregant and for the two hours we sat there I never once was hungry or worried about SNAP.

I realized, I could hide there all day. No one would think I was poor or on SNAP. I could be “normal”. I could pass. And I know people who do precisely that, particularly in New York.

But then I had other thoughts. I wondered how people who are on SNAP handle social engagements. After the economy tanked in 2008 friends and business associates of mine curtailed meeting for lunch and instead met for coffee. It was cheaper with less strings attached. Less commitment. It seemed natural to extend that to my rabbinate. Easier often to meet someone for coffee at Starbucks or Blue Box than to open my office. Safer (but that is another story). I usually offer to buy but do some people decline for financial reasons?
Do I need to rethink this?

I have heard from people I know well. People who have been on SNAP or Food Stamps. People who did not qualify who live on $30 of food a week because they did not qualify. People who did not qualify because one live-at home adult kid was making too much or because they had health insurance. People who were on SNAP during college or graduate school. People who are just barely getting by now who say they do this every week.

So much of eating is social. How does this happen if on a SNAP budget? Can we entertain? If it is a potluck, maybe? Should we try to do one this Shabbat? Have we budgeted for it? We could do spaghetti…

How does someone have a birthday party for a child? Can they bake a cake? Because a purchased cake from the bakery section of the grocery store would have put us over budget. Cupcakes? Goody bags?

I rushed home. My oatmeal was holding me but I needed to be at Blue Box in an hour. Too early for lunch. I poured orange juice in my cup and left. The owner of Blue Box asked, “Is this the week I can’t give you any food? Can I refill your coffee at least?” I explained that yes, this was the week I was doing the SNAP Challenge, and no, my cup runneth over and I was fine. Several people met me. Great conversations. But I couldn’t take my eyes off the young boys’ potato chips.

Most of the time I never eat potato chips. This week it seems to be all I want.

After “lunch”, remember I was not eating at Blue Box, I went to make a hospital call to someone about to have surgery. By then, 2PM, I was starving. I raced home and made lunch. Cottage cheese with green pepper, tomato and cucumber. It was filling.
I raced off to the third of these coffee klatsches. One person, a fellow rabbi, came. She also offered to buy me coffee. Truth is, I can’t do three coffees in one day and I am not accepting these offers these weeks. But I knew I also had choir coming. We chatted away, me sipping my afternoon, home brewed hot chocolate, she her Panera coffee.

By the time I got back to the synagogue I was a little woozy and helped myself to an English muffin that the school has on hand. I rationalized that they would just go bad and someone should eat them. And I begin to figure out how people need to stretch SNAP benefits. How they must use other resources, like food pantries. How all of this takes so much time and energy. Someone nicely sent me a list of resources available in Elgin most of which I knew about and use to refer people to. You’ll see that list tomorrow.

Dinner was stew in a crock-pot, using up the last of the rice and beans from last night. It was good and warm and filling, particularly on this cold, rainy night. And there are still left overs. But I am not like Simon. Simon eats the same breakfast day in and day out.. Without fail. I crave variety. I suspect that people on a SNAP budget have much less variety. That would be hard for me. That and how it might curtail social interaction.

I realize how fortunate I am. This works, for this week at least, because I have a husband who is doing most of the cooking, a good, well appointed kitchen, the love and know-how of cooking myself.

Yesterday there was an article in the paper about the SNAP Challenge,
http://www.chicagotribune.com/suburbs/elgin-courier-news/news/ct-ecn-elgin-food-stamp-challenge-st-0404-20160403-story.html

She did a good job capturing much of what Simon and I said, and I thank her for that. And for getting the connection between Passover and this challenge. Passover is Simon’s favorite holiday. Every year we try to find new ways to enrich the meaning.

This year I am especially drawn to “Let all who are hungry, come and eat.” Is a powerful invitation and we usually have more guests at our home seder than we can comfortably entertain. Yet, most of them are not genuinely poor. Sometimes someone is. Down on their luck. Between jobs. Starving college student. Starving artist. But not typically on SNAP or WIC. But sometimes there are.

So how do we open are doors to all who are hungry? Sometimes by writing a check to Mazon, the Jewish response to hunger, or our local food pantries. By supporting Ma’ot Chittin which enables poor Jews to have the food they need for Passover. Passover can be a ridiculously expensive holiday, with wine, and festive meals and all new packaged goods. The synagogue serves a catered meal for $36.00 per person and if I ever really figured it out, I would suspect my home seder meal is more.

Figuring it out is hard. We love to cook and entertain. We are fortunate. Really, really fortunate to have a very well equipped kitchen and a fully stocked pantry. Nonetheless, I can’t tell you the number of times I say, “I’m hungry. There is nothing to eat in the house.” Really? When cleaning the fridge this morning before we went shopping we have four open jars of olives, four mustards and two salsas. Necessary, probably not. Possible on a SNAP budget? Not sure.

I have spent a lot of time working on hunger and homelessness issues. I was a founding member of the Hunger Homeless Commission in Lowell when Sarah was still a nursing infant. I have worked with Habitat for Humanity, Ethnic Covenant, House of Hope, Merrimack Valley Project, and more. Here I have worked with the Crisis Center, Food for Greater Elgin, United Way, and more. But this project is not about me.

Hunger is still a systemic issue. Kids should not go to bed hungry every night. Any night.

This project came to be bouncing on a bus in Guatemala last summer with American Jewish World Service. Ruth Messenger spent much of the week sitting opposite me. At some point she mentioned that she fasts every Monday. She spends so much of her time talking about hunger she felt she had to put her money where her mouth is…literally. I can’t fast but I wondered what I could do. There was a lot of discussion about the SNAP Challenge…but also a lot of discussion of the limitations. Is it ever possible to do the SNAP Challenge right? http://mazon.org/inside-mazon/the-dos-and-donts-of-the-snap-challenge/

So what I am hoping to create is awareness. This is not really about seeing whether Simon and I can live on a SNAP budget.

So Simon, to his credit, did a lot of research before we went to the store. His favorite was this site: http://www.choosemyplate.gov/budget-sample-two-week-menus

We figured we had $1.48 per person per meal, $4.44 per day. $63 for the week for the two of is. We were warned not to treat this as a game. And we have succeeded in meeting that part of the challenge. Shopping for the two of us at Meijers—an old family favorite from my Grand Rapids days, we spent $58.00, including $8 for bleach tablets for the toilets. (It’s real life and we needed them NOW!)

However, this is not a game—and we are not trying to prove recipients wrong. Rather, the exact opposite. This is supplemental. It enables families who might otherwise fall through the cracks to receive some assistance. The assistance is not enough. There still families—far too many families—who have to make a choice between food and gas, food and medicine or food and heat. Some of them are even in my synagogue. There are 19,000 food insecure people in Elgin.

Shopping was a slow process. Here were some of the issues:
• Checking for kosher symbols on foods we don’t usually buy.
• Arguing about whether we will really need something crunchy at 4PM (YES!) and the SNAP recommended pretzel sticks would be better than the cheap Meijers brand potato chips. We bought neither.
• Recommended shopping list included a lemon. I bought limes, much cheaper than the lemons. Paltrow was derided for buying limes. https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2015/04/17/a-hungry-gwyneth-paltrow-fails-the-food-stamp-challenge-four-days-in/
• Buying canned tuna. When did canned tuna become only five ounces, not six when the recommended serving is three ounces—that made me want to cry—and I don’t love tuna!
• How do we balance my need for protein as a Type II diabetic with the usual diet of carbs that are cheaper? Rice, beans, potatoes, pasta, bread are not so healthy for me. They may not be healthy for most. But they are plentiful, cheap and some of the cause of obesity in this country.
• Can we afford whole wheat pasta, whole wheat tortillas, brown rice?
• What is the nutritional difference between frozen corn and canned corn?
• So we don’t waste food, how much of what we already have on hand can we use? Whose bright idea was doing this three weeks before Passover. I am not buying anymore “chamatz” to bring into the house that we can not finish!

Other things I have already noticed and stated.
• The dog is not part of this. He gets to eat regardless, but when he was barking for my tuna melt that felt different.
• If we are really doing this, it seems not in the spirit for me to go get a massage tomorrow, even though that is a non-food reward.
• Tomorrow will be the longest day with my monthly program Java and Jews at three local coffee shops and no budget for me to have coffee in those venues, even when managers have offered to “slip me food.”
• This takes planning and work and time—some of which are in short supply for us, even more so for the people on SNAP.
• Meals are social. Can we entertain? Maybe if we do something potluck? What do people on SNAP do? Does being poor limit one’s ability to be social–and isn’t that a shame?

This is manageable for a week—and I appreciate all the thought and care that people are putting into their own versions. Simon and I have never been on SNAP or food stamps, we have had difficult financial times. Not knowing where your next meal is coming from or what it will be would make it much, much more difficult to work and contribute effectively in society. See, I am not currently hungry, but not writing well either.

This week we read, as Etz Chayyim puts it, “The Initiation of Formal Worship”, how to offer sacrifices and the ordination of Aaron and his sons. The entire sacrificial system was set up to recreate the experience of Sinai and to allow the people to draw close to G-d. Even the name of one of the offerings, “Korban” shares a root with “draw close.”

It was smelly, messy, bloody. I can’t imagine Moses—or my ordaining rabbi—anointing me with oil and then smearing blood on my right ear. I can’t imagine that G-d wants the burnt offering with its pleasing odor, a gift to the Lord-as the Lord had commanded Moses. (Lev. 8:21)

It is not how we do it today. It is important to talk about this chapter this weekend, precisely because it is this weekend. Christians believe that Jesus is their sin offering. That somehow, Jesus’s blood atones for their sins. The language is rooted from the Hebrew Scriptures. From right here. It is essentially Christian midrash. But there are some important differences as the two religions continued to evolve.

And that is important. When Jesus was killed, he died a Jew. Christianity emerged later. My colleague, Rabbi Evan Moffic, has just written a book about the Jewishness of Jesus. I have read several of these and this one has an interesting twist. He explores Jesus from within his Jewishness with more of a spiritual vantage. Shortly after Jesus was killed, Judaism went through its biggest transition ever, from a religion of sacrifice to a religion of prayer and study.

Today, in Judaism we don’t need an intercessor. You do not have to pray to Jesus or through Mary or the saints to have a relationship to G-d. In Judaism today you don’t need sacrificial offerings. You don’t need blood. In fact, since the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE, there has not been animal sacrifice. And as I often say, I am not planning to start having weekly barbecues in the synagogue parking lot—although they might be tasty and the Men’s Club does own a Weber Grill.

Instead we need deeds of lovingkindness.

The story is told that Rabban Yohanan Ben Zakkai and Rabbi Joshua were walking by the ruins of the Temple. Rabbi Joshua said, “Woe to us that the place where the atonement for the sins of Israel was made has been destroyed!” But Rabban Yohanan Ben Zakkai replied, “Do not be grieved, my son. Do you not know that we have a means of making atonement that is as good as this? And what is it? Gemilut hassadim – acts of loving-kindness, as it is said, ‘For I desire hesed – lovingkindness – and not sacrifice!'” (Hosea 6:6). Avot d’Rabbi Natan 4:21.

Instead we need prayer. We need prayer because it offers us a way to connect with something bigger than ourselves. We need prayer because it can be centering, grounding, balancing. We need prayer because it brings hope. We need prayer because it offers community.

Now prayer can be a very difficult topic. I am currently reading a great book, Making Prayer Real, which lays out what some of the difficulties are. For him, “When I participate in a typical traditional service most anywhere in the world, I have two problems:
1. The prayers are said too fast.
2. It takes too long.”

We want to make sure we are doing services right. We can’t miss any word. So we tend to rush through services because while we want to do it right, we have lots of other places to be. I actually had people get up and move around the room. Using the four corners, I asked people to select one of these statements:
I come to synagogue for services:
1. Because I have to…a sense of obligation, commandment
2. Because I like to connect with the community
3. Because I want to experience/connect with the Divine in some way
4. Because I want to experience some balance in my life. It centers me. It grounds me.

The groups were pretty evenly split. Why do you come to synagogue?

__I come for the rabbi’s sermon
__I come for the words on the page in the Siddur
__I come to say Kaddish or Misheberach
__I come to make sure others can say Kaddish
__I come for the Torah
__I come for the music
__I come for the cookies

While the book, the siddur, is a wonderful historical document, and many of the prayers were crafted 2000 years ago, it was not meant to be the only form of prayer. The prayer book is the structure, the keva. The kavanah, the intention, the thoughts/words behind the words maybe even more important. The words that the heart prompts. But for Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, the keva provides a framework to see him through the days when he is just not feeling it. “How grateful I am to God that there is a duty to worship, a law to remind my distraught mind that it is time to think of God, time to disregard my ego for at least a moment! It is such happiness to belong to an order of the divine will. I am not always in a mood to pray. I do not always have the vision and the strength to say a word in the presence of God. But when I am weak, it is the law that gives me strength; when my vision is dim, it is duty that gives me insight” (“Man’s Quest for God,” page 68).

There is much, much more to be said about prayer and sacrifice and we will do that as we work our way through Leviticus this year.

At the end of Making Prayer Real, there are a series of exercises that can help with individuals who are searching for something and not finding it in their synagogue worship service. If that is you, you are not alone. Only 17% of synagogue members join in order to attend services. And those who do come regularly, come out of a sense of obligation, to make sure others can say Kaddish, because they want to say a misheberach, to hear Torah, (thankfully) for the sermon, but mostly to be part of community.

There is a delightful children’s book where the grandmother takes her granddaughter to services for the first time. The young child gets squirmy. The grandmother assures her that “G-d loves cookies too.” Many of us show up, not expecting to meet G-d or connect with the Divine, but to enjoy a little nosh and some good conversation after the service is over. And that is OK.

But what will it take to make services inspiring, so that people want to be there for the service itself? Stay tuned. That is what we will continue to explore.

In the meantime, I had just such an experience this weekend, knowing that I was going to be talking about this very topic. I had a clergy colleague friend come Friday night. Three weeks ago he unexpectedly and suddenly lost his wife while they were traveling back to Elgin from seeing family. His grief has been profound and public. His faith has been real and poignant. His courage extraordinary. But it surprised me that he would be coming to synagogue on Good Friday, one of the holiest days of the Christian calendar. I introduced him and his mother. Then I began services like always. Talking about the two angels as we sing Shalom Aleichem to welcome each other and Shabbat. Thinking about what peace really means to someone who works for the Church of the Brethren, a peace church. On the day his wife died, a Friday, I paid a condolence call on her boss, my neighbor. The first thing I saw when I walked in their house was a giant wood sign. Just one word. Shalom.

When we got to the first Mourner’s Kaddish I was moved to tears. Written in Aramaic, the vernacular of Jesus’s day so that everybody could understand it, it never mentions death. Instead, it praises (and extolls, and glorifies) G-d for life itself. How profound to be able to say these very words any time–but especially with my friend there on Good Friday.  That is what prayer is all about. I hope he found some comfort in it too.

Remember not to forget….
This is the Shabbat we are told to remember not to forget Amalek. We read this just before Purim because we are also told that Haman is a descendent of Amalek. Let’s read it together.

Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt. How, undeterred by fear of G-d, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear. Therefore, when the Lord your G-d grants you safety from all your enemies around you, in the land that the Lord your G-d is giving you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget! (Deuteronomy 25:17-19)

And yet, since we just celebrated Saint Patrick’s Day I found this on my Facebook feed posted by a congregant. Old Irish words of wisdom:

Always remember to forget
The things that made you sad.
But never forget to remember
The things that made you glad

Always remember to forget the friends that proved untrue.
But never forget to remember those that have stuck by you.
Always remember to forget the troubles that passed away.
But never forget to remember the blessing that come each day.

It would seem to be the exact opposite. We Jews spend a lot of time talking about memory. Zachor. Remember. Yizkor, the Service of Remembrance. Remember that we were slaves in the land of Egypt. Remember, as this week’s portion tells us, never to forget.

What then is the role of memory? I think it has to be to remember the bad and the good. It keeps us grounded. It keeps us connected to the generations that came before. It brings us comfort.

But what is the difference between memory and nostalgia. I think sometimes people want to return to that day when they walked to school in the snow storm, up that giant hill. And then walked home in the snow storm—up that same giant hill. Or those who want to return to the shtel. That is somehow glamorized by Fiddler on the Roof. But make no mistake it was no picnic. Or that commercial on now for Direct TV with the settlers. Little House on the Prairie was no picnic either. And how many of you long for a time here where all 216 seats were full? Perhaps Elgin in the 1950s. The world might have seemed simpler then, but was it really better?

Sometimes, what is too painful to remember we choose to forget. I stole that line from
Barbra Streisand, The Way We Were. Remember the whole song?
Mem’ries,
Light the corners of my mind
Misty water-colored memories
Of the way we were
Scattered pictures,
Of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another
For the way we were
Can it be that it was all so simple then?
Or has time re-written every line?
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we? Could we?
Mem’ries, may be beautiful and yet
What’s too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
So it’s the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember…
The way we were…
The way we were..

The way we were. How were we? What if our memory starts to fade? Or blur. Or is too painful to remember.

Shortly after my mother died I returned to Grand Rapids, to moderate a book discussion on the last book she had chosen for her book group. The Madonnas of Lennigrad is a haunting book that moves between war torn, besieged St. Petersburg and her present day Alzheimers. She had kept herself vibrant by remembering her docent speech at the Hermitage. Now she was struggling to remember who she was today. I was struck by the discussion. How did we know that the siege of Lennigrad was as bad as it was portrayed. Others present answered that one. It was worse. Why wouldn’t she have told her children about how bad it was? I tried to explain that many people who undergo that kind of stress do not tell their children of the horrors—Vietnam vets, from who we first learned about PTSD, rape victims, Holocaust survivors. They don’t want to relive those painful memories or burden their children with them. Then a person asked how did we know that the Holocaust happened.

Because Hitler documented everything, I wanted to scream. Because we are taught to remember. To never forget. To keep telling the stories. To interview the survivors. To keep that memory alive. Just like today’s portion commands. Remember to never forget.

But it is not enough to remember. And here is where the Irish blessing comes back in. Because in order to survive. In order to thrive, we need to forget the little things We need to in the words of this blessing,

Always remember to forget
The things that made you sad.
But never forget to remember
The things that made you glad.

That is what Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson said recently, “Holy Forgetting: the ability to let go of the trivial, the toxic, and the entrapping. Cultivate the capacity to selectively forget in order to truly inhabit the present….It is good sense to overlook an offense.” Proverbs 19:11.

Yet it seems there is a difference between a garden variety offense and the sin of Amalek, attacking the hungry, weary rear, or Haman or Hitler.

Perhaps there is one more song. Peter Yarrow wrote Light One Candle. In fact, as Simon and I pause to celebrate our anniversary, we remember that we sang this as part of Havdalah at the rehearsal dinner. We remember, with nostalgia the daisy petals from heaven that fell that morning. But these words tell us what we must do.

What is the memory that’s valued so highly
That we keep it alive in that flame?
What’s the commitment to those who died
That we cry out they’ve not died in vain?
We have come this far always believing
That justice would somehow prevail
This is the burden, this is the promise
T
his is why we will not fail.
Keeping that memory alive only works for me if we work for a time when the rear guard is not attacked, where an evil despot does not try to wipe out an entire people, where no longer will there be a genocide, any time, any place, against any people. This is why we must remember to never forget Amalek. To spur us to memory and action.

I am still having a hard time getting writing done. We had a fabulous trip and most of this was done but needed polishing. Here it is…

I was going to start with the theme song from the Love Boat. After all, Helen and Manny have enjoyed cruising and we are here to celebrate that love is in the air. Instead, it is almost baseball season so, instead, look around you. If you build it they will come. And all the more so, if you feed them they will come. And that is appropriate for this celebration also. This is our field of dreams.

Last week as we left the sanctuary and entered the social hall, Helen said to me, “You know next week Manny and I will celebrate our 60th anniversary. I think I’ll sponsor Kiddush.” That was the starting point. And it is nice. Sweet. Generous. And we are delighted that people want to sponsor Kiddush for happy events as well as yahrzeits.

It turns out that her timing is everything. Beshert. Destined.You see this week’s portion is about two things. Two portions really. This is a day with an extra reading. The first reading is as Heschel explains about building a palace in time and space—Shabbat celebrated in the Mishkan and that is what we are doing here, celebrating Shabbat in this beautiful building. Our own fields of dreams.

But the extra reading is about bringing a half shekel. Why were the Israelites commanded to bring a half-shekel to build the mishkan, the Tabernacle?

Because everyone could do it. Whether you were rich or poor you could add a half shekel. And together you create a beautiful place for the dwelling of G-d. That in dwelling presence of G-d we talked about last week, the Shechinah. The Shechinah is related to Mishkan. They have the same root. The In Dwelling Presence of G-d lives in the Miskhan, the Dwelling Place for G-d. The Shechinah dwells in each of us.

In this way, we all have a stake in what happens here. We all have access to the Divine. And that is pretty darn important. Simon’s childhood temple, Congregation Sinai, used to proclaim proudly the words of Isaiah, “My House Shall Be A House of Prayer For All People.” right over the majestic entranceway. That is exactly what we are building here. That is that wide-open tent we talk about, warm and welcoming to all who enter. That beautiful tent. Make no mistake. This building. This very building. Our building.The one that the Franks and the Lindows and others from previous generations had the vision to create and maintain. It is that lovely tent. That beautiful dwelling place. The one that you all have built with your shekels. “Ma tovu ohalecha Ya’akov. Mishkanotecha Yisrael.” How lovely are your tents O Jacob; your dwelling places, Your Mishkan—O Israel.” It is a dwelling place for G-d and for us. A beautiful legacy.

And why just a half-shekel? Maimonides begins to answer that question. “everything that is for the sake of G-d should be of the best and most beautiful. When one builds a house of prayer, it should be more beautiful than his own dwelling. When one feeds the hungry, he should feed him of the best and sweetest of his table. . . . Whenever one designates something for a holy purpose, he should sanctify the finest of his possessions, as it is written (Leviticus 3:16), ‘The choicest to G-d’” (Mishneh Torah, Hil. Issurei Mizbe’ach 7:11).

We still do that. There is a concept of hiddur haMitzvah, the beautification of the mitzvah. That’s why there are so many different seder plates that you can buy in our gift shop. And it extends beyond ceremonial art. Don’t laugh, but when I was first here, some one bemoaned that we were buying cheaper toilet paper. Shouldn’t we buy the very best toilet paper since this was a house for G-d? Why should we settle for second best? That expectation of excellence is something this portion is trying to imbue us with. For our synagogues and our homes.

Because our homes become a mikdash me’at, a little sanctuary. When we celebrate Shabbat at the synagogue and in our homes, Shabbat becomes a palace in space and time, a foretaste of the world to come.

That is what we are doing here today, bringing our whole selves to this mishkan, building a home for G-d on earth, a palace in time and space. We give ourselves fully to G-d and to each other—in this community so carefully built and to our partners. We realize that without this gift of the half-shekel we are incomplete. It was Robin Williams who said, “I used to think that the worst thing in life was to end up alone. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel alone.” We are better here, together, with G-d and the people we love.
But why a half and not a whole? If everything is supposed to be the best?
It goes back to the first wedding. We are better together than apart. We need a helpmate. As the text says, “It is not good for man to be alone.” But even in the first marriage—Adam to Eve—we are told in the midrash that G-d bedecked and bejeweled Eve. It is a sweet story. Yet, it is more than sweet. It is, as the Kabbalists teach, destined. Beshert. When G-d created humans, the first pair, was a single soul separated. Ideally, if we are lucky enough, a marriage is the reunification of that single pair, the ying and the yang borrowing from another tradition. The reunion necessitates our taking a deep breath, experiencing tzimtzum, the Divine room for the other, to experience ourselves as not whole but being completed by the other half, that half-shekel, that partner that makes us whole again, just like in the beginning.
But that is not all. Where else does that measure turn up—a half shekel? And here is where it becomes “Bashert”, destined, that we talk about this this morning. I owe the insight to Chabad. Now some of you are thinking, Chabad, that is not your usual source. But in fact, it can be a very good source, and one I read every week, together with AJR’s D’var Torah, Rabbi Lord Sacks, USJC Torah Sparks and URJ’s 10 Minutes of Torah. I guess you can say…I myself am a pluralistic Jew, plumbing the depths for all 70 faces of Torah. But Chabad seems especially appropriate today since Helen and Manny have a son that is a Chabad rabbi! In fact, Helen and Manny should be proud of all their children and grandchildren who are so active and so knowledgeable. Shortly we will have their son Gene honor his parents by chanting Haftarah.

But back to the question. Where else do we find a half-shekel? In the story of Eliezar finding a wife for Isaac. Who remembers the story?

Abraham sends his servant to find a wife for Isaac. Eliezar stops at the well. Rebecca rushes to draw water for him—and for his camels. In fact, all the verbs are active, rushing verbs.

The man took a golden ring, a half-shekel in weight; and two bracelets of ten shekels’ weight of gold for her hands. (Genesis 24:22)
The story continues and reads like a Hollywood script. He is welcomed into Laban’s home. Rebecca is consulted. She actually says yes. In fact, we derive the Jewish law that the woman has to say consent. She has a right of refusal. More gifts. Dinner. They set out on the caravan. They reach the field where Isaac is meditating. She lifts her eyes. She asks who is that man. She falls off her camel. He takes her to his mother’s tent and he loves her. The first mention of love in the Bible. And is comforted after his mother dies.
To this day a ring, perfectly round and unbroken is part of our wedding ceremony. Look at your hands…look at that ring…think of the promise you made to each other. Now I invite Helen and Manny to stand. And everyone else who is here with their partner to stand as I chant the Sheva Brachot, in memory of that day long ago when you gave each other a half-shekel.

I have gotten out of the habit of writing. There are lots of excuses. I’ve been busy. My material is fresher if I do it as a discussion rather than a formal written sermon. Others have said what I am trying to say more eloquently. What I say doesn’t matter. It doesn’t count.

Then rcently this turned up in my Facebook feed. “You must learn to hush the demons that whisper, “No one wants to read this. This has already been said. Your voice doesn’t matter.” In the rare moments when the voices finally hush, you might hear the angels sing.” (MargaretFeinberg.com).

Perfect, I said. And it relates to what I said on Shabbat morning. On Shabbat we read another portion about building the mishkan. Carefully detailed plans. Designed to build a home, a beautiful home for the Presence of G-d.

There were two sentences that jumped off the page at me. One was the structure of providing an offering, “one in the morning and one in the evening.” I was reminded of Rabbi Nehamia Polen, professor at Hebrew College, who would tell the story that much of this narrative is to push the reset button, to call down the Presence of G-d just like on Mount Sinai. There is smoke, incense, quaking, thunder, lightening just like on Mount Sinai. In our ritual, we are recreating the experience of Sinai.

And then G-d dwells among us. That “Presence of G-d” in fancy English translations, is “Shechinah” in Hebrew. And it is related to “Mishkan”. So by building a house of G-d, a house for G-d, the mishkan, we welcome the In-dwelling Presence of G-d, the Shechinah.

And we learn the detailed patterns for the clothes that the priests wore. The gown, the ephod, the breastplate, the jewels (all 12 of them, representing the 12 Tribes of Israel and Jacob’s sons), the mantle, the bells and pomegranates.

But why? Why does any of this matter? I think it has to do with ritual and the power of ritual. What is a ritual?

It is something we do as a routine, to call us back to another time. To hit that reset button that Rabbi Polen was talking about. To provide structure, safety and security. To enable the ineffable to happen.

We do this with lots of things. Birthdays follow a prescribed ritual. Birthday cake. Birthday candles. Making a wish. Presents. Going to a Michigan football game follows a prescribed ritual. Tailgating. The band. The specific songs the band plays. The cheers. The wave. Those are secular examples.

Judaism has its ritual too. Lots of it. How we celebrate holidays and Shabbat. How we pray. How we eat. How we dress. Most of our lives are prescribed. Some say that there are too many “Thou Shall Nots” and not enough fun things.
But what it we look at it in a different way? What if we look at another verse in this parsha?

Moses is commanded to “kindle” the ner tamid. The Eternal Light as we teach the kids. That light that is supposed to be lit in perpetuity, we go to great lengths to make sure it lasts. Oh sure, these days it is a little easier with compact florescent light bulbs. But in the old days, this was a task that involved everybody watching. And as soon as the oil burned out, more was added. It was an awesome responsibility for the entire community.

But the verb “to kindle” really is closer to lift up, to raise up. “V’ha’alot” The same verb we use to go up to the bimah, to have an aliyah, to go up to Jerusalem, to make aliyah. Somehow the act of lighting the light, the ner tamid, raises us up.

Rabbi Kalisch says that the ner tamid “serves the purpose of giving light to G-d,” as it rises. Cue the old Girl Scout song here…”Rise up O flame, by thy light glowing. Show to us beauty, vision and joy.” And at the same time as we rise up to G-d, it brings G-d’s presence down to us.

That is the function of ritual. It reminds us of the past and connects us to previous generations. It brings us closer to G-d so that G-d’s presence can dwell among us and it lifts us up. It raises our spirits. It is part of how we can create “meaningful observance.”

There is one other piece here that is important. February has become known as disability awareness month. This verse makes it clear that the light has to be kept, watched, guarded by the WHOLE community. It is not just the priests who keep the fire going.

The Midrash teaches, “Instruct the Israelites to bring you clear oil of beaten olives . . .” Not because I (God) need it, but so that you should give light to Me just as I have given light to you . . . . This is compared to a blind man and a sighted man who were walking together. The sighted man said to his companion, “I will guide you along the way.” When they arrived at their destination and came indoors, the sighted man asked the blind man to please kindle a light to benefit him (the sighted man). In this manner, the blind man would not be overwhelmed by his debt of gratitude to the sighted man, and would recognize himself as capable of benefiting others.” ( Midrash Sh’mot Rabbah 36:2)

As we learned last week, each of us has unique gifts that we bring to build this holy place. In this case the midrash is reminding us that it is those with sight and those without. Both are needed. This coming Shabbat our children will teach us the Sh’ma in sign language. Their simple actions enhances the meaning of the word “Listen” and it makes those holy words accessible to all. This too helps us create meaningful observance.

Does G-d need the light? That is for you to answer. But it is clear to me that we do. It helps us fulfill the teaching of Menachem Mendel of Kotzk. He asked, “Where is G-d?” and answered, “Wherever we let G-d in.” This is what we learn from the power of light and the power of ritual.