On Rosh Hodesh Nissan, twenty five years ago today, there was a snow flurry. It was the first day of spring and I was getting married. I called the chair of the religious school to see if we were going to have to cancel school (and the wedding!). “No”, she answered, “Those are daisy petals from heaven.” Now, you should know that Margaret means daisy pearl, I would be wearing my grandmother Marguerite’s daisy pearl pin and my bouquet was daisies. Those flakes were a perfect greeting for the day.
This week to mark our 25th anniversary, we went to the Community Mikveh in Wilmette to immerse. While I have done a lot with mikveh, even before Mayyim Hayyim, Simon had never immersed. This would be something we would do together, for each other. When we were leaving there were those daisy petals again. A gift from the heavens.

We exchanged gifts that day. I gave him a engraved siddur. He gave me a kayak. Water has always been important to us as a couple.

Rosh Hodesh is the new month, the head of the month, a gift from G-d to the Israelite women who did not contribute their gold to the building of the Golden Calf. In recent years it has been reinvigorated and you can find Rosh Hodesh groups that meet monthly to explore women’s issues, women’s spirituality, to study and to daven. One such group meets at the Western Wall in Jerusalem. I have supported them since their inception in the early 80s. I am proud that one of my professors, Rivka Haut is a founding member. Every month they risk ridicule, bodily harm and arrest for the simple privilege of worshipping at the Western Wall, the holiest site in Judaism. This month I was given two gifts. One, I was chosen to be part of the speaker’s bureau for Women of the Wall. Wow, (pun intended) was I excited and honored. I already did my first engagement–on Rosh Hodesh Nissan for the Sisterhood of Congregation Kneseth Israel. The other is that NO WOMAN was arrested this month at the Wall. Hallelujah! There is much more I could say about gifts and Women of the Wall but I need to write something else, as a gift.

25 years is a long time. Especially in a second marriage. Many people did not think this would work. That I was marrying too young, to the wrong person, that we didn’t have enough money, that taking on his three kids would be too difficult. They were wrong. These have been 25 good years. Not perfect, but good.

My husband is the first person after my year living in Israel that enabled me to know I was lovable–something I still struggle with. He was the person who supported me physically, emotionally and spiritually. He was the one who allowed me to talk about G-d, most notably on a youth group ski trip we were both chaperoning. He was the one who insisted that the dream of becoming a rabbi was not dead or farfetched. He was the one who took care of our daughter while I was traveling on business or in New York at rabbinical school. He was the one who kidnapped me and took me to Bar Harbor, first to climb a mountain for his birthday, then once a quarter, (yes we even skied up Beehive Mountain one winter) then twice when important decisions had to be made. He was the one I sat with on the rocks at Ogunquit and walked the Marginal Way trying to decide how best to finish rabbinical school, whether to be the educational director at Congregation Beth Israel and whether we should move from his beloved mountains and my beloved ocean (and a host of friends and a condo we loved) to become the rabbi of Congregation Kneseth Israel. He is patient. He allows me to be angry. To scream and rant. (Yes, I have been known to do that at home). He allows me to cry.

Tevye sings to Goldie, “Do you love me?” She answers,
“Do I love you?
For twenty-five years I’ve washed your clothes
Cooked your meals, cleaned your house
Given you children, milked the cow
After twenty-five years, why talk about love right now?
For twenty-five years I’ve lived with him
Fought with him, starved with him
Twenty-five years my bed is his
If that’s not love, what is?

They agree that it doesn’t change a thing, but even so. After twenty five years, it’s nice to know. I never milked his cow, I still have to watch my mouth. I still struggle with the law of kindness.  But after twenty five years, I can say proudly and publicly that I love him. And thank you. On to the next twenty five years.

Driving home from the mikveh, there were more daisy petals from the heavens and a rainbow.

What I sent to my congregation yesterday….

Despite yesterday’s snow, Passover is a mere 20 days away. Many of you have been making plans and I delight in hearing what you will be doing. Did you know that Passover is the most celebrated of all the Jewish holidays in American Jewish families? Did you know that traditionally, the rabbi only gave a sermon twice a year? On the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur to teach how to repent and on the Shabbat before Passover, to help with preparations. This is my version of that sermon. We at CKI are a diverse community with lots of levels of observance. However you choose to celebrate, I wanted to give you some guidelines and some resources. And from my family to yours I wish you a sweet Passover, a zissen Pesach.

Your CKI Family is ready to celebrate with you. We have Judaism Rocks, Turn Over the Kitchen Day, The Study Session in place of the Fast of the First Born, the Community Seder, the Women’s Seder, special services with Hallel and the reading of Song of Songs and Yizkor on the last day. Consult the bulletin or the website www.ckielgin.org for times and places. If you need a place for the first night please contact me personally.

If you are planning to sell your chamatz, please get your form to me by March 22. Our chamatz will be purchased by Pastor Keith Frye at Christ the Lord Lutheran. He is excited about the interfaith learning that this tradition teaches and he will be attending the Kleins’ first night seder. Money raised from this project will go towards feeding the hungry, since we are commanded, “To let all who are hungry come and eat.” Some will go to Mazon and some will go locally.

Starting with the most traditional, my favorite book on Passover preparations is Blu Greenberg’sHow to Run a Traditional Jewish Household. She has really practical advice, like when you go do your Passover shopping, have two slices of pizza and a coke first. Then you won’t be tempted by the wide array of processed foods that look appealing on the shelf but never taste as good as we hope. In the Klein family once we started making chocolate covered matzah (the recipe is in the bulletin) we stopped needed to buy all the junk food, cutting down our food budget. She also points out that none of us should feel guilty if we can’t buy everything that the Jewel has to offer. Some years we can, others we can’t and the holiday will still be festive.

The Orthodox Union, the OU people, have this set of guidelines: http://oukosher.org/passover/ It provides a good way to check individual products and I can envision it right at the grocery store and have downloaded it to my smart phone. If you need all the rules and regulations, the Chicago Rabbinical Council, the CRC people put out a comprehensive list accessible on their website at http://www.crcweb.org/Passover/passover%20guide%202012.pdf . This will give you the low down on specific heckshers, times, etc. Everything you need to know. The Rabbinical Assembly has a good overview of the halacha, http://www.rabbinicalassembly.org/story/hameitz-laws-and-customs

The Reform Movement sent out a link to their Passover material. Great sounding recipes, social justice connections, crafts, activities for kids..plus lots of the history and plenty of additional links. Well worth the read. http://view.mail.rj.org/?j=fec11373736c0679&m=fe9315707361057572&ls=fe231776716c0474741277&l=fefd167574660c&s=fe5312717362077b721d&jb=ffcf14&ju=fe5c15767c600c787415&r=0

Many of you have asked me about the kitinyot article that appeared in the most recent Conservative Judaism magazine. Rabbi Golinkin’s responsa permitting Conservative Jews to eat kitinyot first appeared in 1989 and has been republished in several years. It is a fascinating discussion and one that sparks a heated debate in my own household every year. Intellectually I agree with those who argued as early as the 1300s that we can eat kitinyot, rice, beans, legumes. It is clearly a custom and does not have the weight of halacha, rather of minhag and tradition. The rabbis in the Talmud had rice at their seder! I can even justify it because some of my husband’s ancestors came from Italy and Spain making us Sephardic. I can even support it because it is the main practice in the State of Israel. But my daughter every year argues that as a rabbi, anyone needs to be able to eat in our home. Besides which I raised her to hunt for kosher for Passover ketchup, a good preparation for the Afikomen during the seder. At the synagogue we will continue to observe the Ashkanazi tradition, again so that anyone coming during Passover will feel comfortable. So you can make your own decisions in your own homes, here is the full responsa: http://www.responsafortoday.com/engsums/3_4.htm

If, however, you still have questions, I am of course available for consult. There were signs up in Jewel and the Hungarian “Consult your local rav.” That’s me! 978-590-8268. Other questions that have come up include Kosher for Passover oven cleaner. Kosher for Passover coffee. (I bought Starbucks blonde roast ground with an OU P designation in Evanston and then found it at Meijer on Randall!). How to kasher a keruig or a dishwasher? What to do with plastic? Can Jews eat lamb on Passover?

Passover celebrates our liberation from Egypt, out of the narrow spaces of Mitzrayim. For some they see it as a rebirth. As I said in my bulletin article, we should not therefore become enslaved to the Passover preparation and enter the seder so tired we cannot enjoy it. Passover cleaning can seem like New England spring cleaning on steroids. But the schmutz on your window which you were not going to eat anyway is really not commanded cleaning. Nor are the dust bunnies under the piano or that dried stuff under the refrigerator. While I am all for Passover cleaning and I like the idea that my house is really, really clean at least once a year, I am trying harder to not be narotic about it. And paper plates are OK for some of those many courses! Really, I learned that from another woman rabbi in Pennsylvania.

Part of what makes Passover fun for me is finding new ways to involve the next generation. Sing Dayenu–at least the chorus, only one Hebrew word! Write a new version of Dayenu, It Would Have Been Enough… Practice the Four Questions. In Hebrew or English. We have started in Hebrew School. The 3rd Graders are writing their own questions. They include:
Why does Elijah come?
What do we dip?
Why do we have four cups of wine or grape juice?
Why do we eat kosher food?
What is the story of Passover?
What is freedom?
Have them help you with the shopping or the cleaning or the silver polishing. We change our dishes, but when Sarah was very young, my mother, a avowed classical Reform Jew, sent Sarah her own set of play plastic dishes. We changed her Little Tykes kitchen over too. Write a skit based on the Four Children. Have special things for the plagues. There is a set of masks at the gift shop. I’ve seen finger puppets as well. Even the adults think that is fun. Sing silly seder songs. Some of our favorites are here: http://sederfun.com/images/Silly%20Songs.pdf Or write one of your own. Overall, I am suggesting, make the seder your own and you won’t get the fifth question-“When do we eat.” Oh, and at our table that question was always asked by a dear friend who is 70+ now. We solved that. After the karpas, the parsley, serve crudite with another dip. No one asks any more!

In every generation, we are to see ourselves as if we personally were brought forth from Egypt. In every generation new things are added to the seder, to make it more meaningful, more current. Last year, in addition to the usual egg, shankbone, parsley (home grown), bitter herbs and charoset (two kinds, with nuts and wine and without for our friends who are allergic to nuts or don’t drink wine), we had a beet (for our vegetarian friends in place of the shankbone), an orange for inclusivity of both women and the GLBT community, Israeli olives for peace, coffee beans to remind us that some people are still enslaved. We added an artichoke with its pickly thistles for diversity. That is good one for this congregation that says it embraces diversity but has discovered it isn’t always easy. This year we will add tomatoes.

Perhaps we should simplify, simplify, simplify. The original seder was merely lamb, bitterherbs and matzah. That’s it. Or maybe we could/should try one of the new Hagaddahs that are out. Or maybe we could try, as our students will, a chocolate seder or a Dr. Seuss seder or one set in a beudoin tent. What we ultimately want is some way that our children will ask, “Why?” “Why is this night different?” So then we can tell the story, “Tonight is different because of what the Lord did for me when I went forth from Egypt.”

A Kosher and Sweet Passover
Next year in Jerusalem,
Rabbi Margaret

Sometimes it is the things that happen in between what is scheduled that make the week meaningful and profound. This past week was supposed to be a quiet week. An ordinary week. Nothing special. Busy but not exciting. Yes, it had committee meetings scheduled but that is a natural part of synagogue life. We had a calendar meeting, a keruv meeting and a ritual committee meeting scheduled. There was Hebrew School, tutoring and office hours.
This week was anything but ordinary.
On Sunday a family asked me for a special blessing. They had just purchased a chamsa, a  piece of jewelry that looks like a hand used in Middle East cultures for protection,  from the synagogue gift shop. The back was engraved with a single word. Protect. They wanted me to bless the piece of jewelry. They wanted some form of protection of their own as the wife faces a life-threatening illness. I took them on the bimah with their daughter and recited the priestly benediction, the birkat hacohanim in front of the open ark and before the Torah scrolls. It was the morning of the Purim carnival and the synagogue was buzzing with activity. I was still dressed as Esther, cheerleader of the Jews. Complete with yellow clown wig and my pom poms. Standing on that bimah, quietly was a powerful moment. The blessing says, “May the Lord bless you and keep you.” The word for keep can be translated as guard. We talk about God being the Guardian or the Protector of Israel. All season I had been I teaching the verse from Esther 4:14. Mordechai says, “Perhaps you have obtained such a position for just such a moment.” I felt that way standing on the bimah. Sometimes we talk about God being hidden in the Esther story. Over the bimah is the quote, “Know before whom you stand.” Standing there with this family was a profound experience. I knew before whom we stood.

On Wednesday, I met with my 7th graders. This is always one of the highlights of my week.  They are enthusiastic and very bright. They help me answer questions. deep questions, tough questions, like what does it mean to be happy or what is revelation today.  Earlier in the week the third graders had asked if God can see Himself. I told them I would get back to them and I let my seventh graders try that puzzle. What would they say to third graders? One boy has the beginning of Genesis as his Bar Mitzvah portion. We had been talking about being created in the image of God. Another boy has a portion that includes the phrase, “If I find favor in Your eyes.” “That proves it,” they exclaimed. “God has eyes. If God has eyes He can see Himself!” But what if God doesn’t have a body? What if God is neither male nor female?How do we reconcile that? One of the girls put it together. If we are all created in the image of God, it is like looking in the mirror. When we look in the mirror, we see ourselves, therefore we see God. So then God sees Himself since God has eyes and He finds us favorable.” Since we actually in the middle of a discussion about how God reveals Himself, the kids agreed that in seeing the Divine in each of us, that is how we uncover or reveal God’s presence. Really, these are my seventh graders.

Later in the week the woman from the bimah, who wanted God’s protection, would be in the hospital. The cancer had spread. Where was God’s protection? There is a difference between healing and curing. It will be a long battle for her but it sounds like the skilled and compassionate care team has a plan that will help her. I managed to see her Friday afternoon. I sang the Debbie Friendman B’yado the last verse from Adon Olam. It says, “Into His hand, I place my spirit. When I sleep and when I wake, and with my spirit, my body, God is with me, I shall not fear.” I sing this version often when I am at the hospital. Its slow, gentle melody is comforting, like a warm fuzzy blanket. I learned this from Rabbi Michael Schaddick in Grand Rapids who sang it to my mother when she was in the hospital.  I hope that my congregant sleeps knowing that others and God are taking care of her while she sleeps. I hope that she knows that it is OK to be angry, OK to be sad, OK to be scared but that G-d never slumbers or sleeps. I assured her that her job is to get well and that it is my job, with others to take care of her husband and daughter. Her goal, learn enough Hebrew, together with her daughter, to fully participate in her daughter’s Bat Mitzvah. The daughter showed up on Sunday, a new student, with her homework done. Her father said that before every treatment they are singing the Mi Sheberach but aren’t sure of the Hebrew. Again, I assured them that God understands.

Another congregant is a mensch of a high order. Quietly, behind the scenes she has been taking care of someone who has very little family and who was facing the end of her life. This has been going on for weeks. Hospice would say, “Any day now,” and then the day would pass and she would rally. Not today. The woman was not Jewish and wanted to know all about life after death. Judaism, while it may have developed the concept of heaven, and less about hell, does not offer the surety of some branches of Christianity. Still we all studied. We read books. We answered questions. I thought the hospice chaplain had a beautiful metaphor when he talked about the people who shoveled her walk preparing the way. “G-d prepares our way like that,” he told her, “and is waiting for you with open arms.” Still she held on. This past weekend, while I was on the bimah with that other family, her sister told my congregant, “You know, she was never baptized.” My congregant wondered if maybe that is what she was waiting for. “Can that be possible?” She called the chaplain. He came out in the snow storm. Ironically the walk had not been shoveled and he couldn’t get to the house. He came the next morning. Baptized the women and anointed her with oil. Two hours later she died, peaceful and assured that she would be welcomed by G-d. Can I explain it? No. Was it spiritual or psychological? I am not sure it matters. But another profound moment I have shared.

What will this week bring? A snow storm. Preparation for Passover. A Board Meeting. Hebrew School. What will happen between the ordinary times? What else will I be privileged to learn this week? Only God knows. But it is a privilege. Day in and day out.

We know the story of the Golden Calf. How the Israelites got scared, went to Aaron and demanded that he build the Golden Calf. How they melted down the gold. How they danced around it.
We know how Moses, having been up on Mount Sinai for 40 days, writing down the word of G-d, came back down the mountain, say the people and got angry, very, very angry. He smashed the tablets.

I want to teach just two things this morning. And trust me I could teach a lot more. I wrote a 122 page thesis on this very parsha. Today I want to talk about a little midrash. The people, after Moses smashed the tablets, picked up the shards of the first set and saved them. Eventually those shards were put in the mishkan, in the Tabernacle, side by side with the whole ones. They were of equal importance.

For me, this is a profound teaching, and not unlike the story of creation, where the light was so bright it shattered the vessel. It is our job to put the shards back together—and that is tikkun ha’olam, repairing the world.

Roger Kamenetz teaches, “The broken tablets were also carried in an ark. In so far as they represented everything shattered, everything lost, they were the law of broken things, the leaf torn from the stem in a storm, a cheek touched in fondness once but now the name forgotten. How they must have rumbled, clattered on the way even carried so carefully through the waste land, how they must have rattled around until the pieces broke into pieces, the edges softened crumbling, dust collected at the bottom of the ark ghosts of old letters, old laws. In so far as a law broken is still remembered these laws were obeyed. And in so far as memory preserves the pattern of broken things these bits of stone were preserved through many journeys and ruined days even, they say, into the promised land.”

Estelle Leven in her book Sacred Therapy asks these questions, “So what does it mean that the Torah was given not once, but twice? What was different about these two revelations? And what are the spiritual lessons we can learn from the fact that the Israelites gathered up the fragments and carried the broken tablets with them on their journey?

The discussion this morning was deep. One person said that the broken shards are the tears of the Israelites. Another said that the collecting the shards is what enabled the Jewish people to atone. It was their atonement for the sin of the Golden Calf. Someone else said that the Israelites were not yet ready to hear the first set. They had to receive G-d’s word twice, just to hear it so it could be written down and preserved.

Frankel answers her own questions:
First she teaches, “In fact, failure is often a gateway through which we must pass in order to receive our greatest gifts.” At MIT’s Office of Intellectual Property, they tell their young scholars, soon to be business professionals that they expect young entrepeneurs to fail. Many business people have done just that. Tried out an idea and then made a mistake and failed. They need that trial and error before they can get it right. American pop culture epitomizes this in the song, “Pick yourself up. Dust yourself off. Start all over again.” We tell kids learning to ride a horse or a bike, that if they fall, they need to get back on and ride. It isn’t easy. But this morning’s parsha teaches us it is possible. And that gives us hope.

Frankel says it better: “It was only after Israel’s greatest single act of folly—namely, worshiping the golden calf—that they were able to truly receive and hold on to the gift of Torah, or spiritual illumination. Sometimes we only learn to appreciate life’s gifts after we have lost them. If, however, we are lucky enough to be given a second chance, with the wisdom we have acquired through our experience of failure, we learn how to cherish and hold on to what we are given.”

I think she is right. Sometimes we don’t appreciate what we had until we have lost it. Talk to someone who was a victim of Hurricane Sandy or a forest fire. They would say that they didn’t realize what they had had. However, they often realize that they have their family, their lives, their most important things and that they can begin again. They have been given a second chance. Talk to someone who has been in a serious car accident but survived. Again you will hear how they have been given a second chance. Sometimes you will even hear how they feel they were spared and that there must be something that they can contribute, something that adds meaning to their lives.

Frankel teaches something even more important. “The two revelations at Sinai can also be seen as symbolizing the inevitable stages we go through in our spiritual development. The first tablets, like the initial visions we have for our lives, frequently shatter, especially when they are based on naïvely idealistic assumptions. Our first marriages or first careers may fail to live up to their initial promise. We may join communities or follow spiritual teachers and paths that disappoint or even betray us. Our very conceptions of God and our assumptions about the meaning of faith may shatter as we bump up against the morally complex and often contradictory aspects of the real world. Yet, if we learn from our mistakes and find ways to pick up the broken pieces of shattered dreams, we can go on to re-create our lives out of the rubble of our initial failures. And ultimately, we become wiser and more complex as our youthful ideals are replaced by more realistic and sustainable ones.”

We were talking about this in the car on the way home. My first fiancé died fighting for Israel, in a terrorist bomb attack. I still wonder what life would have been like. I still mourn his death and mark his yahrzeit. But later this month Simon and I will mark 25 years of marriage. Together, we have a wonderful daughter. That would not have been possible if my initial dreams had come true. Life has not always been easy. We have had the same struggles many couples face in modern society. And at the same time, I don’t think I would trade in my life. In Frankel’s words, we had had our youthful dreams. But they never had the opportunity to mature. Those dreams never had the opportunity to meet reality. Nor were they sustainable because of their purity and idealism. I would add their innocence. So my shattered dreams need to live side by side with the world that is—my full life complete with being a rabbi in Elgin, loving and living with my husband of 25 years and relishing watching my daughter continue to blossom.

Frankel continues: The myth of the broken tablets teaches us that it is important to hold on to the beauty and essence of dreams we once held dear, for our initial visions contain the seed of our purest essence. Gathering up the broken pieces suggests that we must salvage the essential elements of our youthful dreams and ideals and carry them forward on our journeys so that we can find a way to realize them in a more grounded fashion. For ultimately the whole and the broken live side by side in us all, as our broken dreams and shattered visions exist alongside our actual lives.

The Israelites were scared. Moses was angry. G-d was anything but happy. A debate ensues. Even though Moses was tired, God wanted to him to go back up the mountain. Get the 10 Commandments again. Moses sounds like a petulant child. “I don’t want to. Why should I lead this stiffnecked people. You can’t make me. I’m tired. Leave me alone. I am not even sure who You are. Remember this is your people, not mine. Don’t lay this trip on me.” God then makes a very important promise. God says, “I will go in the lead and will lighten your burden.” As JPS points out it is literally “I will give you rest.” Moses needs that reassurance. He needs to know who God is and that God will lead.

How desperately we need that assurance. Many of us sitting here have burdens that are very hard. Maybe you are looking for work. Maybe you are struggling with a health issue. Maybe you are fighting with your spouse or your kids. Maybe you are facing a financial crisis. Maybe whatever the issue is so painful you can’t even talk about it. But this parsha comes to teach us to pick up the broken shards of our lives and that G-d will give us rest. That’s all I need. That is enough. May it be true for each of us. “There is nothing more whole than a broken heart,” taught Hasidic master Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kots

Today is Shabbat Zachor, the Shabbat before Purim. Zachor is a word you may know. It means to remember. It is the root of the word Yizkor, the service of remembrance that we have on Yom Kippur and then again on Sukkot, Passover and Shavuot, the three pilgrimidge holidays. Zachor is the first word you see when you walk into Yad V’shem, the Holocaust Museum in Israel.
“And it will be, when the Eternal your God has given you rest from all your enemies round about, in the land which the Eternal your God is giving you for an inheritance to possess it, that you shall blot out the remembrance of Amalek from under heaven, you shall not forget” (Deuteronomy 25:17)
This is very interesting construction. Remember not to forget. This must be serious. Very serious. And you ask, why are we reading this portion as the maftir just before Purim? Tradition teaches us that Amalek was the ancestor of Haman. The idea that we are to blot out even the remembrance of Amalek is the reason given for drowning out Haman’s name during the megilah reading. Thus we are commanded to make all that noise tonight.
But before we can get to the fun and hoopla and noise of tonight—and trust me, I hope we really will have fun tonight, this part is the serious stuff.
Remembering is important in Judaism. Many of our holidays are about remembering— Each festival is marked, sanctified, made holy with Kiddush over wine that links the festival to two themes—remembering the Exodus from Egypt and Creation. “Remember that you were slaves in the land of Egypt.” “Remember what the Lord did for me when I went forth from Egypt.” We remember the miracles of the parting of the Red Sea, the giving of the law at Sinai, we remember being strangers in a strange land, the destruction of the Temple(s), the victory of the Macabees. We remember being in the land of Israel and we mourned our exile for 2000 years. There is a haunting song for Tisha B’av that I learned my very first trip to Israel, “We remember, we remember, we remember thee Zion.”
Back to Amalek. What was his crime? Why is it so important to remember not to forget him? He surprised the Israelites and attacked the rear, the women and children, the weakest link. It was a surprise attack and the word here is interesting. It is karcha, which also has the meaning of cold. Perhaps this is the first recorded evidence of PTSD because one of the root causes of PTSD is being shocked, which sometimes has the symptom of being cold. In any case, we are told remember not to forget. Some said his crime was to not provide food or water to the fleeing Israelites. A big crime in a desert society, no question.
As we will read in this morning’s haftarah, tied to the Deuteronomy passage, when Saul was king, Saul was commanded to wipe out the Amalekites. All of them. And he did, Almost but not quite. He chose to spare the King of the Amalek’s life and a few cattle. For this Saul loses his kingship.
Now to our modern ears, this chapter in the Israelites story can seem quite troubling. Four Questions that emerge include: (1) Why does God order the annihilation of entire nations in the first place including the innocent children and cattle? (2) Why are the Amalekites specifically named as those to be wiped out? (3) Why is a later generation of Amalekites punished because of the sins of an earlier generation? (4) Why is Saul’s sparing of one man and a few cattle such a serious offense to God?
Let’s go one level deeper. Tonight we will read the Book of Esther. One of two books in the Bible that never mentions G-d. The other one is Song of Songs. The rabbis were not even sure that they wanted to include either in the cannon. The Catholic Bible actually adds chapters to the Book of Esther so that G-d is fully present and visible.
Where is G-d in Esther? Can we find evidence at all that G-d was present? Where was G-d during the Holocaust? Can we find evidence at all that G-d was present? Where was G-d during 911? Can we find evidence at all that G-d was present? Where is G-d in our own lives? When we experience loss or trauma? Can we find evidence that G-d is present?
Scribbled on a wall in Cologne during World War 2, a Jewish victim wrote this poem:
“I believe in the sun
even when it is not shining

And I believe in love,
even when there’s no one there.

And I believe in God, 
even when he is silent.
I believe through any trial,
there is always a way.
But sometimes in this suffering
and hopeless despair

My heart cries for shelter,
to know someone’s there

But a voice rises within me, saying hold on
my child, I’ll give you strength,

I’ll give you hope. Just stay a little while.
I believe in the sun
even when it is not shining

And I believe in love
even when there’s no one there

But I believe in God
even when he is silent

I believe through any trial
there is always a way.
May there someday be sunshine

May there someday be happiness

May there someday be love

May there someday be peace….”
How do we find that surety? For me, I typically find it in the Psalms. The Psalmist struggled with his own doubt. We read about it in Psalm 30 about G-d who turns our mourning to joy, our sackclothe and tears into dancing. It then begs G-d, “Hide not Your face from me.” Psalm 81, the Psalm for Thursday is a particular favorite of mine. Even when I can’t feel G-d I know that G-d was there, I need this reassurance.
“Then I heard a voice I never knew, ‘I removed the burden from your shoulders, your hands were set free from the load. In your distress you called and I rescued you,
 I answered you out of a thundercloud;
I tested you in the wilderness.”

A rabbi in England, Sylvia Rothschild pointed out this week on her blog, we Jews really only fear one thing today—disappearing entirely so that no trace of us is found. In my own confirmation class all those many years ago we did a radio play entitled The Last American Jew. The premise was that the last Jew was held in a cage in a museum for all to see. It was haunting and I can still see my classmate on the bimah in that cage we built for the event. I am pleased to report that the reports of the death of Judaism have been greatly exaggerated.
Rabbi Rothschile continued, The text this morning begins with a future time “It will be”. This reminds us of one very important lesson – we don’t have to worry yet about what we might erase or forget, that will be for the unspecified future. Right now our task is to remember and to document and to keep alive, it is not, absolutely not, to do anything else.And yet, despite all the dire warnings and the attempts of Amalekites in every generation, we have not died out. We are here. In some places we are thriving.
So yes, I will remember. I will remember not to forget. Like Abraham Shlonsky “I have taken an oath: To remember it all, to remember, not once to forget! Forget not one thing to the last generation when degradation shall cease, to the last, to its ending, when the rod of instruction shall have come to conclusion. An oath: Not in vain passed over the night of the terror. An oath: No morning shall see me at flesh-pots again. An oath: Lest from this we learned nothing (Council 49).”
For me that means that I work for a time where we do not have to remember these kind of travesties, where the vision of Isaiah can be fulfilled, that everyone can sit under their vine and fig tree and none shall make them afraid.
There is one more piece of hope from today’s parsha. After this long, rather bizarre description of the ordination of Aaron and his sons, nothing at all like my own ordination, Aaron is commanded to light the light. The ner tamid. The same concept that every synagogue still uses today. A light that will never go out.
Perhaps Anne Frank said it best…It’s really a wonder that I haven’t dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.

I believe in the sun, even when feeling it not. I believe in God, even when God seems hidden.

Yesterday I taught our 12 older students in our after school Hebrew School. They are bright, enthusiastic, energetic. They want to learn. As I have done with many classes through the years, we read the Book of Esther out of the tanach (the Hebrew Bible). The real English, not the fairy tale version we usually tell the younger kids. I divided the group into four subgroups and each group was to present 3 chapters and tell us 3 new things they learned and stage those chapters. Some students had fun going on a treasure hunt for props–we will use them on Sunday.
We talked about the PG, PG13, and R movies and what rating they would give the Book of Esther. Would it win an Academy Award for best picture? Who would you cast to play Esther? Vashti? Mordechai? Haman? Ashashvarus? No question, some of the Book of Esther is at least PG13 rated. Some is double entendre and appeals especially well to 7th grade boys. Ironically, in most cases the girls raised those questions first.

Other topics we covered:

Why did Vashti say no to the king? Is it ever OK to say no to your husband? Is this like Jasmine and Aladin who sing, “No one to tell me no, or where to go” on their magic carpet ride?
How many parties are there in the Book of Esther. I am not sure we ever got the final count.
If there is that much partying and drinking can you make good decisions? Why or why not?
Esther hides her Jewishness. Is this a good thing? Have you even hidden your Jewishness at school, why or why not?
The action changes in Chapter 4–Mordechai tells her that she must speak up to save her people. When should you speak up? What about in cases of bullying? What is a bystander? An upstander? How can you be an upstander–have you ever been? For me this is the key concept of the whole Book of Esther?
Yom Kippur is called Yom Hakippurim in Hebrew, a Day Like Purim. How is Yom Kippur like Purim? One of the kids pointed out that on Jonah’s boat they cast lots to see whose fault it is–like they cast lots, purim to see which day the Jews should die, hence the name. Other reasons include that once we atone, we are cleansed and we should celebrate. Esther and Mordechai fast for three days before she goes to the king. Mordechai wears sackcloth (I had to explain that one) and ashes as a sign of mourning.
Where is G-d? Is G-d hidden? One of two books in the Bible that never mentions G-d. The other one is Song of Songs–a book of love poetry which was my Bat Mitzvah haftarah portion and I wasn’t comfortable reading it with my other 7th grade classmates.
How fast can you say the 10 names of Haman’s sons? The rabbis teach we should say them all in one breathe. Can you do it?
How do we celebrate our victory? With hamantaschen–which we tasted, thanks Torah School Moms, with parties, with reading the WHOLE MEGILAH, which your children have now done, with noisemakers drowing out Haman’s name and very importantly with giving gifts of food to each other and to the poor. We are commanded to do this last one so we will be making lunches for the Crisis Center on Sunday as part of our celebrations.
And yes, the kids brought up Vashti’s wearing only a crown, was she banished or killed, the golden scepter, Haman on the couch with Esther. All of them are in there. What they mean is open to wide levels of interpretation, which is what I said. No inappropriate words used but there was much snickering. Even the rabbis are puzzled and some of the Talmudic rabbis weren’t even sure they wanted to include Esther in the cannon.
Wow! We really did a lot in an hour and a half. As you can see the book can be read at lots of different levels and is not just for little kids.

This morning I drank my coffee out of a coffee cup that said, “Brimming with Joy”. Last week I had another cup of coffee just labeled, “JOY.” Now I will be clear, I have come to love my morning cup of coffee, but joy? The cups make me smile. But I am not sure that the coffee brings me joy. There are lots of things labeled Joy and I am especially sensitive to it since my middle name and the one my family uses is in fact, Joy. Everywhere you go you see my name.
This week my Bar Mitzvah boys continued a discussion about the prayer Ashrei. “Happy is the one who dwells in the House of the Lord.” So I asked them, what is the difference between happy and joy. One explained patiently to me that happy is an adjective and joy is a noun. One said that happy is external and joy is internal.Another tried to explain that joy is a deeper feeling. You can be happy about the outcome of a football game (hey these are 7th grade boys), but joy is something more. We talked about the root of the word “Asher” in this case Happy but with a sense of “Rich is the one who dwells in the house of the Lord.” How is happy like rich? How are we rich because we dwell in the House of the Lord. One boy said, “We are enriched by G-d’s words.” It was a good discussion.
I have a book entitled “Finding Joy.” It looks at joy from a kabbalistic standpoint. Finding Joy is not a slam dunk. It is not always easy. It is especially not easy if life gives you curve balls. If you are angry–and many of us are. Learning to channel that anger, the book argues, helps to bring us to joy. There are many words in Hebrew for joy–simcha, which carries with a sense of passion according to the Chasidic rabbis. Rinah, to sing with joy, Sasson, Gila,

Perhaps I am thinking of this especially as we approach Purim–when our greeting is “Be Happy It is Adar.” Many of the terms for joy show up in the Book of Esther and then are repeated as part of the marriage blessings. Soon, LORD our God, may there ever be heard in the cities of Judah and in the streets of Jerusalem voices of joy and gladness, voices of groom and bride, the jubilant voices of those joined in marriage under the bridal canopy, the voices of young people feasting and singing. Blessed are You, LORD, who causes the groom to rejoice with his bride.”

There are ways to find joy and happiness, even within our anger, our fear, our mourning. The Psalm 30 teaches that God turns our mourning to dancing and our sackclothes to robes of joy. Later in the same Psalm we learn that tears may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning. So there are ways to take our sadness and turn it into joy, to uncover the hidden joy. Sometimes in the book of Esther, everything seems hidden–Esther’s identity, G-d’s presence, even the joy amidst the destruction at the end. But it is there, just below the surface, waiting to be discovered, in our ways in our own times. Maybe it is like my Bar Mitzvah boys and it is obvious. It is probably something I, especially given my name I will continue to wrestle with. How do you find joy and happiness?

Today is Valentine’s Day. Saint Valentine’s Day. I have some friends who don’t celebrate it because it is a saint’s day. Others who don’t celebrate it because it is a pagan holiday. I don’t care. It is fun. More than fun it is important to remember that we are loved and that we can love. There was a popular song, “What the world needs now is love, sweet love. Its the only thing that there is just too little of.” The words are still true. Another one says “Love is what makes the world go round.” The Jewish Holidays by Michael Strassfeld makes the point that these early spring holidays–Mardi Gras, Valentine’s Day, even Purim are a release. It is about giving thanks that we survived the winter. Early spring gives way to early, romantic love. In Judaism we see it consummated with Shavuot, the love story between G-d and the Jewish people who received the 10 Commandments at Sinai, the ketubah, the wedding contract, between G-d and the Israelites if you will.
Valentine himself is shrouded in mystery and there are not clear records of who he was or what he did. Some say he dates from 289CE, when he married people in secret within the church because the emperor forbade marriage, thinking that unmarried soldiers fought better. Shortly before his execution he signed his last letter, “From your Valentine.” Others dispute this, saying Geoffrey Chaucer invented many of the traditions and myths around Valentine’s Day in his Parliment of Fools. In any case, the day became connected with romantic love.
Isaac is the first person in the Bible who experiences love. Genesis tells us that “Isaac brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he married Rebekah. So she became his wife, and he loved her; and Isaac was comforted after his mother’s death.” I like the idea that he was comforted and that he found love.
Our prayers are filled with the idea of love as well. Ahavah Rabbah and Ahavat Olam the prayer immediately before the Sh’ma teach us that God loves us, the people of Israel and so gave us Torah. Torah is a set of rules, a way of life. Some rebel against the structure, the thou shall nots. If you think about it, however, like a parent loves a child and set limits, God shows love for us by setting limits and giving us rules. We, in turn, then love God with all our hearts, with all our souls, with all our mights–with our whole being.

We are taught that another sign of this is that the last letter of the Torah in Deuteronomy is lamed, ending the word Yisrael. The first letter is bet, beginning the word bereshit. Taken together, lamed-bet, they spell lev, heart. Torah is filled with love, with heart.
There is another word for love, chesed, which as Nelson Glueck taught in his seminal work on that word we will never fully be able to translate or understand, means something like lovingkindness. Exodus 34:6-7 which I wrote my rabbinical thesis on, teaches that there are 13 Attributes of the Divine. Chesed is mentioned twice in that list. The list says that “The Lord! The Lord! God, Compassionate and Gracious, Slow to anger and Abundant in Kindness and Truth, Preserver of kindness for thousands of generations” It continues that God forgives iniquity, transgression and sin.”
This idea that God loves us is important. And that God is full of lovingkindness. Patient. Forgiving. This is what enables romantic love to be possible. I was at a monastery recently and I was struck by the simple altar covering. “You are my beloved.” If we, imperfect humans are God’s beloved, than anything is possible. Which is exactly what Abraham and Sarah found out when God told them they would have a baby so very late in life.
Love is what makes the world go round. It makes all things possible. So however you celebrate Valentine’s Day today, whether by enjoying some chocolate, some flowers, the first hints of early spring, pause and know that you are loved. Even if you are alone and feeling lonely, know that you are loved, deeply loved.

So Moses lived to be 120 years old—and the blessing on someone’s birthday is “May you live to be 120. Ad meah esrim” Essentially, may you be like Moses. So today we are having a big birthday party, an anniversary. 120 years. Kol hakavod!

It has been fun for me to hear the stories. Blossom talking about having the first aliyah as a woman. The stories of sneaking out to Prince’s for nickel ice cream cones. Stories about the last Bar Mitzvah on Villa Street and the first one in this building. Any number of stories of the basketball court and the showers in the basement. Stories of Friday Night Live and piano music with Mrs. Greenfield. Stories of dinner dances and _________. Stores of the Jewish Community Chest. I love this kind of history and I love that we are surrounded by it with the display on loan from the Elgin Historical Society.

120 years is a long time for a congregation, especially a Midwestern congregation. While my ancestors helped found KAM in 1847 and Simon’s helped with Congregation Sinai, 120 years is still a rarity. Anywhere in the country. It is truly a milestone. B’nai Shalom in Quincy was founded over a 130 years ago and has the oldest synagogue building in Illinois in continual use. The Orthodox congregation on Golf Road in Skokie was founded in 1867 and lists itself as the oldest Orthodox congregation in the Midwest. And then there is us. That’s it.

We record lots of ages in the Torah—some of them seem radically improbable. Who really lives to be 969 years old like Methuselah? Or 900 like Adam or 500? Did Sarah really have a baby at 90? Even she laughed at that idea to which God said nothing was impossible for God.

And the Bible does mention the celebration of birthdays. Isaac was weaned on his third birthday and Ahrbaham made a feast. The Pharaoh that Joseph served under celebrated his birthday and that was an auspicious day. One of Ahashvarous’s parties in the book of Esther was rumored to be his birthday.

We are taught to number our days. What does it mean to count, to number our days?

I think it means that we should strive to do something worthwhile. There is a line in Gates of Repentance that has always resonated with me, “Merely to have survived is not an index of excellence.” It gets me every year and brings me up short. So what are we supposed to do? I think we need to thrive.

What does it mean to thrive?

We are in the section of the Torah where we are wandering in the desert. Inevitably the Israelites are not happy. They grumble. Almost constantly. They don’t want to walk through the mud when the Sea of Reeds miraculous parted. They worry that there is not enough water. They don’t like the taste of manna—it’s boring. They want to go back to Egypt where at least they have onions to flavor their food. They still have a slave mentality. This is not unlike prisoners who sometimes commit another crime just so they can go back to jail where even though it isn’t pleasant they have three square meals a day and heat. Last week we read how the Israelites begged Moses to go up the mountain for them. They were afraid. Soon we will read about the Golden Calf. Again, the Israelites were afraid , this time that Moses wasn’t coming back. It took a full generation for the Israelites to be ready to enter the promise land. But that generation was the one that got to experience God’s presence directly. As Mekhita taught, “Even a lowly bondswoman saw God” unlike Isaiah and Ezekiel who only had visions of God. This very generation set up our ability to be Jews today. By having the courage to leave Egypt (not everyone did), by being like Miriam and taking their timbrels with them so that they could worship and celebrate, by having the courage to walk through the water like Nachson, by sticking with it, even when they were scared and grumbling.

For me that it is what is about. We need not just to survive. We need to thrive. That is what our ancestors who founded this very shul wanted. They wanted us as Jews to thrive in the Fox River Valley. They wanted us to be proud of our heritage and their legacy. They gave us a lasting gift.

And it would be nice if along the way we did it with a little less grumbling. We can’t go back in time. We can only move forward. It is good to celebrate that we survived. That we are amongst the oldest Jewish congregations in Illinois. But what is so critical to our success, our ability to thrive is to plan for our future. It is about how we take our passion for Judaism, for this very synagogue, for this building and pass it down to the next generation so that they share our enthusiasm and passion. The next generation will be different than ours. That happens every generation. They will make Judaism their own and build on what we leave them. They may elect to do services online, do more with social media, learn Hebrew remotely. They are already doing some of that. They may prefer Matisyahu to Lewandowski or Debbie Friedman or Jeff Klepper. Synagogues may not look like this building at all and I am not sure we can imagine what it will be like. However, I think that Jews will want to continue to be engaged and involved on their terms, for spirituality, for study and for community. That is what a synagogue, a temple, a shul, our home is all about.
There is a story about Reb Zusya, a great Hasidic leader. He was worried about the question he would be asked by the angels at the end of his life. He would not be asked, “Why weren’t you a Moses, leading your people out of slavery. And the angels will not ask, “Why weren’t you a Joshua, leading your people into the promised land.” His followers were puzzled. What will they ask you? Zusya answered, “They will say to me, Zusya, why weren’t you Zusya.”
Today is Shabbat Shekalim, the day when Israel took a census, when G-d asked the Israelites to raise their heads, literally take a head count. It is essentially a tax holiday. Every adult, those 20 years old, of military age, Israelite had to pay a half shekel. The text is clear, the rich shall not pay more nor the poor shall not pay less. There are a couple of interesting things to point out here—the word, v’natnu is a palindrome, spelled the same way backwards and forwards. The Vilna Gaon teaches that charity is a two way street, those give many have to receive. That seems like the classic “What goes around comes around.” But there is something more here.

While Eitz Hayyim translates it as “each shall pay,” the verb is closer to “And they shall give.” This is an obligation, but it is also a gift.

Each of us have gifts that we bring to the shul. Those gifts are what make this place a holy place.

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.

The Rabbinical Assembly’s Rabbi’s Manual has a special bracha for a special anniversary. While it was designed for a wedding anniversary, it is appropriate here. The Israelites formed a covenant with God and with each other. A marriage is a covenantal relationship, a relationship based in love, in mutual respect, in trust. Building a synagogue is much like the Israelites who stood together at Sinai. Building a synagogue is a lot like entering a marriage. So like those who have been married for 25 or 50 years we say,
“I will betroth you to Me forever. I will betroth you to Me with righteousness, with justice, with compassion. I will betroth you to Me with faithfulness, and you shall love Adonai.” Paraphrasing, 120 years ago, in the presence of your families and friends, you consecrated this community. Your lives together, your sharing of joys and sorrows, your raising families together, and your continuing devotion to each other, nurturing and expanding upon the promise our ancestors made to one another 120 years ago.” (page c-68). Every week we read as part of the Torah service the blessing for our community and for our leaders. “May the blessings of heaven—kindness and compassion, long life, ample sustenance, well-being, and healthy children devoted to Torah—be granted to all members of this congregation. May the Sovereign of the universe, bless you, adding to your days and your years. May you be spared all distress and disease. May our Protector in heaven be your help at all times…May God who blessed our ancestors, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah and the very ones who founded this synagogue, bless this entire congregation, together with all holy congregations…along with those who unite to establish synagogues for prayer and those who enter them to pray and those who five funds for heat and light and wine for Kiddush and havdalah…May God bless them by making all their worthy endeavors prosper…And let us say, Amen.” Siddur Sim Shalom, page 148) This is about how to thrive.

Our work is not yet done. Pirke Avot teaches, “Lo Alecha Hamlacha ligmor, Ours is not the finish the task, neither are we free to ignore it.” So it is time to celebrate. And time to raise your heads, stand up and be counted. But it is also time to pass down what we love to the next generation, lador vador, from one generation to the next. We are not alone in this. God makes a promise in the beginning of this week’s parsha. “I am sending an angel before you to guard you on the way and to bring you to the place that I have made ready…I will let you enjoy the full count of your days.” Then we will truly thrive into the next generation and beyond. Ad meah esrim.

Be Happy, It is Adar. There are things to be happy about this month. Purim comes in the middle to remind us that the Jewish people survived, not only Haman’s evil plots but until now. As I recently wrote, it is not enough to survive but we need to thrive. What does that mean, for each of us personally and for us as a people?

Yesterday the Violence Against Women Act passed the Senate. This too, on the eve of Purim is reason to celebrate. But our work as women, for women is not yet done. This bill urgently needs to pass the House of Representatives. One of my favorite parts of the Book of Esther is when Mordechai chides her. “For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the may arise from another place… And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?” This prodding gives her the courage to find her voice and speak up. We need to make sure this bill passes and as President Obama urged last night in his State of the Union, we need to make sure that women are paid the same as men. Our voices, like Esther’s make a difference.

Rosh Hodesh Adar was celebrated in Jerusalem too, by the Women of the Wall, a group I have supported since they were founded in 1983. They believe that women have the right to pray at the wall, that women’s voices can be heard. There are some Orthodox (men) who believe differently. For the last several years things have gotten increasingly tense. Women have been arrested. Their crimes? Wearing a talit, Singing the Sh’ma. Disturbing the peace. Really? I have read all of the halacha on both those issues. While not required to wear a talit, it is not forbidden either. That could be subject for a whole entire separate blog.

I was encouraged this month. The paratroopers who liberated the Wall in 1967 would be attending. I stayed up to midnight to see what would happen. There was a larger crowd than usual, perhaps because of the coverage in Ha’aretz. Perhaps because it was Rosh Hodesh Adar…where our heroine speaks up against injustice.

When I got up, the first email I read was from Anat Hoffman, executive director of the Israeli Religious Action Center and the spokesperson of Women of the Wall. Ten women were arrested including Anat, Rabbi Susan Silverman, two Conservative rabbis slated to meet with MK Natan Sharansky, a Reform rabbinical student and others. I had friends who were there.

Again, our voices can and will make a difference. We need to be more like Esther. Then will we not only survive but thrive. There is much to be happy about this month. Last night I made a beaded gragger bracelet with the women of our sisterhood. It jingles. It jangles. It says Be Happy. Hadassah and Joy. I will wear it on Purim to remind me that I have a voice. And still so much more work to be done. Ours is not to finish the task, neither are we free to ignore it. How will your voice be heard? How will you make a difference this month?