This past weekend the Jewish community celebrated the 100th Anniversary of the first BAT Mitzvah in this country. Kol Hakavod to Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan who had the vision and the courage to do this. Mazel tov to Judith Kaplan his daughter who became the first woman, young adult really, to have a Bat Mitzvah ceremony.

Last Shabbat we honored this moment. Here is part of what I said.

This is an important moment in time. But let’s review a little bit of how we got here. Women are allowed, even expected to pray. They are exempt from the Sh’ma because it is time bound but required to recite the Amidah. I can’t explain it but I can give you chapter and verse. Beruiah, the wife of Rav Meir in the Talmud is quoted in the Talmud and in fact is a talmud chachma herself. Some even call her the first (woman) rabbi. (I forgot to put the word woman in that sentence!)

Some call Oznat Barzarni the first (woman) rabbi. She was born in a time when everyone believed in miracles but very few believed girls should learn to read. Her father faught her and when her husband the head of the yeshiva died she became the head and no one argued. There is a lovely children’s book, Osnat and her Dove.

Others cite Regina Jonas in Germany, ordained in1935. She was my chevruta partner’s mother’s Hebrew tutor. She loved studying with Regina but reported to her mother that she must be crazy since she thought she could be a rabbi.

Fast forward to 1974. We had recently moved to Grand Rapids and all my new friends were having a Bar or a Bat Mitzvah. Nobody thought I could because I started learning Hebrew in only 6th grade. In my Sunday School in Evanston we didn’t learn Hebrew. I studied really hard and caught up with my class. We began making plans. Mine was scheduled for Passover, so everything had to be kosher for Passover, even though we belonged to the Reform congregation, Temple Emanuel..

My Bat Mitzvah was on a Friday night, April 12, 1974. The bulletin announcement listed who ushered and who poured tea at the Oneg Shabbat, which was lovely, All decked out in strawberries. Strawberry programs, strawberry napkins, punch and pie, Big bowls of spring time strawberries and whipped cream. Only the next day we discover I am allergic to strawberries. That was the extent of the party. The next day we took a few kids to a hotel swimming pool for afternoon fun. And I had more strawberries.

The service was lovely. I read from the Torah but didn’t chant. My rabbi, Rabbi Albert M. Lewis has often said that kids get just the right portion. Mine certainly proved to be. I had Exodus 33 and 34. The aftermath of the Golden Calf. An argument with G-d about going back up the mountain to get a second set of tablets of the 10 commandments. And then the glorious 13 Attributes. Those 13 Attributes caused me to be able to answer a fundamental question. The G-d of the Hebrew Bible is also the G-d of love, not just something in the Christian Scriptures. It is the verse that I wrote my rabbinic thesis about. And then a book.

I also chanted some of the special reading for Passover, Song of Songs, again about love. I remember telling Al that I would read that in Hebrew. Kind of a racy text for a 13 year old! And of course, parts of it we used at our wedding.

But it all started on a very rainy night in Grand Rapids, in 1974, just two years after Sally Priesland was ordained. Apparently I told my eight grade English teacher that I was going to be a rabbi. I have no recollection of that. Nor can I find any photos. They must be in the basement somewhere.

This is what I know. Coming of age ceremonies are important. For boys. And girls. They give students the opportunity to rise to an occasion and to shine. I am delighted to stand on the shoulders of all those who made it possible for women to take real leadership roles in Judaism.

At CKI there have been B’not Mitzvah since the late 1950 .Late on a Friday afternoon, I had the opportunity to talk to a long time member who had the first female aliyah. She gushed at my remembering and her making history. These are important milestones.

Many women did mot have the opportunities I did. They had a two tiered system for Jewish educations, boys and girls. Or their parents didn’t think girls needed any learning at all. Or they weren’t born Jewish or they just never got around to it. We are hoping at CKI to rectify some of that. If you are interested in becoming an adult Bat Mitzvah, or a Bar Mitzvah, please be in touch. What an exciting way to mark both the 120 anniversary of CKI and the 100th anniversary of bat mitzvah.

What follows are two poems I recently wrote for Women’s History Month.

Ladders: 

“Women don’t climb ladders.” they said.
It’s not safe.
Except they do.
They absolutely do.
They climb step ladders;
They climb paint ladders;
Extension ladders, a-frame ladders, library ladders.
They climb corporate ladders
While they are on top,
They smash glass ceilings.
In sports
In business.
In politics.
In medicine.
Even in religion.
In so much more. 
They even climb Jacob’s ladders.
Reaching to the sky,
Touching the very vault of heaven.
Finding G-d.
Bringing the Presence down to us. 

     Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein, copyright 2022 

Voices… 

In honor of the 100th Anniversary of Bat Mitzvah
In honor of the 50th Anniversary of Women’s Ordination 

“I shall sing to Adonai,”
Chanted Miriam.
 “A voice cried out,”
Mourned Rachel whose children were no more.
“If You give me a child, I will dedicate him to You,”
Hannah wept and prayed in her heart
Devorah judged
Sitting under a palm tree,
Causing the sun to stop.
“No, “said Vashti, “I will not come.”
“Save my life and the life of my people,”
Demanded Esther! 

 Every Friday night we read:
“She opened her lips with wisdom
And the law of kindness is on her tongue.”
So says Proverbs
Or maybe it is how Abraham chose to eulogize Sarah 

 Women have always prayed:
At the shores of the sea,
In the wilderness,
In the women’s court at the Holy Temple,
In their homes and on their way,
Wherever they are. 

We have their words:
Their songs,
Their laments,
Their hopes,
Their techines,
in Yiddish, In Ladino, In Hebrew,
In every language. 

 And yet,
A woman’s voice is dangerous.
Alluring.
It can’t be heard.
It shouldn’t be heard.
Even today
Some groups teach this.
Women don’t have to pray.
Except they do.
Women are exempt
Except they are not
Women can’t read Torah.
Except they can.
I can give you chapter and verse. 

But why?
Why should we?
Why do we still need to prove ourselves?
To justify ourselves
Why are we made to feel that our voices are
Less authentic
Less real
Less important 
Less necessary? 

 No rather,
I will use my voice
To make this world a better place.
To speak out against injustice.
To cry out.
To sing out.
To open my mouth with kindness.

OK, some day, I pray.
I will open my mouth with kindness.
I will listen to the still small voice within.
With all my being I will praise G-d 

As the psalmist said,
What profit is there is I am silenced?
What benefit if I go to my grave? 

Like Miriam and Rachel,
Hannah and Deborah and Esther
Like Beruriah and Gluckel
Osnat and Regina
Like countless women in every generation
My voice must be heard.
Our voices will be heard. 

     Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein, copyright 2022 

Three times this week I have been asked how to handle being angry with G-d. This week’s portion provided a possible answer. At least mine.

Today’s Torah portion is named Tzav because it is the first key word. Many times the Torah says, “Vaydeber adonai el moshe la’mor. And G-d spoke to Moses saying,,.” Our book, Eiz Chayyim translates this as “said to Moses saying” two forms of the same verb, but the Hebrew is actually two different verbs with very similar meanings. This phrase appears so often it doesn’t really count. Therefore, Tzav is the first key word and the name of our portion.  

“Tzav! Command! Don’t just speak. Order them! Command them! It is from the same root as mitzvah, commandment. 

This is a very strong word. What does it mean to command? What is a commandment? It is not just, “tell them.” or “speak to them.” It has an edge. You better do this. Or else!  Or else? Or else what?  

The portion then goes on to describe in exacting detail how the Israelite priests should offer sacrifices. That’s what is being commandment. A system of ways to reach closer to G-d. Drawing close to G-d is the goal of religion, from the Latin word religio to tie back up into. It provides a framework. If the priests sacrifice the korban, the sacrifice described the community will be right with G-d, will draw close to G-d. Korban has the same root as close, k-r-v/  

If you do x, then I, G-d will do y. It is a covenantal relationship. We read the paragraph after the V’ahavta from Deuteronomy 11 earlier. It lays it all out. “Keep, therefore, all the Instruction that I enjoin upon you today, so that you may have the strength to enter and take possession of the land that you are about to cross into and possess,” You’ll have rain in its season and eat to contentment. But if you stray, then watch out. 

This is like an angry parent. It is a system that works. Maybe. Except when it stops functioning. And too often this kind of thinking leads to a blame the victim mentality. Even if you follow all the rules, you may not get the life you think you deserve. People who promote what as known as “prosperity gospel” are particularly prone to this line of thinking. You are destined for goodness because G-d will provide it. If you do everything right and don’t go straying after strange g-ds. If you do, then you might get events like Katrina, 9/11 even the pandemic. We’ve all heard that kind of language, even recently. Perhaps especially recently.  

More than once the Israelites have to re-invent themselves. When they are expelled from the Land of Israel by the Babylonians. Remember those great pieces of liturgy—If I forget thee O Jerusalem. And by the waters of babylon we sat down and wept. Then again during the Macabee days. Then again after the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE. 

One of my favorite stories is from Avot de Rabbi Natan, on page 68 in our siddur. Mourning the destruction of the Temple, two rabbis were wandering in the ruins. What could they do, without animal sacrifice to atone. The answer, deeds of lovingkindness is what G-d desires, not sacrifice. 

So what happens if it is you? What if you have been the rule follower all your life? It doesn’t help to tell you that the world is not fair. Yet it’s not. It doesn’t necessarily help to look for explanations. In my own case, I don’t believe, for instance, that G-d is punishing me because of some commandment I didn’t follow. It also doesn’t seem to work to look at the demographics. Most people with myeloma are older black men over 70 who handled chemicals. That’s not me. It is maybe somewhat genetic, research is not clear. The doctors’ best guess. Bad luck. Would I like a better explanation? You bet.  

So life isn’t fair.  

It is OK to be angry with G-d. Go ahead, be angry. Scream it. Punch it. Cry it out. G-d is angry too. 

Be angry that people are not being kind. Be angry that there are wildfires in Texas and earthquakes in Japan. Be angry that there is climate change. Be angry that rulers like Putin think so little of human beings and can’t see that all humans are created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. Be angry that there are not enough slots for refugees in this country. Be angry that there are not enough mental health services in Kane County or elsewhere. Be angry that the health care system seems to be broken. Or the justice system. Or the educational system. Be angry that 25% of all kids go to bed in this country, with plenty of resources, hungry. That’s my list of what makes me angry. 

You each probably have your own list of what makes you angriest these days. In the book Finding Joy, a simple introduction to Kabbalah, which we read together as a congregation several years ago, it tells us that anger is OK—the trick is to balance it. To channel it. To use that passion for good.  The example in the book was about Alan who was angry at his long dead father for repeatedly beating him as a child. At his aged mother who didn’t stop the beatings. But he became a successful defense attorney because he refused to let anger control him. He believes that anger is a gift from G-d because it forces him to fight harder for the people who depend on him the most. 

Ager is Alan’s Yetzer Hara, his evil inclination. He has channeled it to be more effective, production, successful and yes, even happier. 

Alan, a modern day example was not alone. One of the founders of chassidut, Rabbi Levi of Berditchev, argued with G-d, using a very similar construction to Moses, demanded, commanded G-d:, It is a prayer of protest, “Din Torah mit Got” (a lawsuit with God) in which he asserts, “And I, Levi Yitzhak, son of Sarah Berditchev, say, from my stand I will not waver, and from place I shall not move until there be an end to this exile.” 

That place he refused to move from. Ukraine. When did I learn about Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev? For my own Bat Mitzvah, this very quote I used in my Bat Mitzvah sermonette.  

If Rabbi Levi Yitzhak can argue with G-d. If Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav can go out into the fields and pour out his heart to G-d, demanding, commanding that G-d listen, we can too.  

Our Torah portion begins with “And G-d called.” Vayikra, G-d called to Moses. In every Torah the aleph at the end of Vayikra is written smaller than the rest of the word. Why? There are many reasons given by the rabbis but nobody knows for sure. 

I like to think of it as the little aleph that could. It points the way. It is like the story of the Aleph at the beginning of the 10 commandments. Rabbi Larry Kushner tells the story so well where rabbis argue about what the Israelites heard at Mount Sinai. After several iterations, they conclude that the first word of the first commandment, Anochi, which begins with the letter aleph, a silent letter, means that G-d and the Jewish people can have a conversation. It means that each of you can hear the silent voice of G-d deep in your soul, pointing the way.  

My friend, Leann Shamash wrote a poem about this small aleph linking it with the unfolding tragedy in Ukraine. 

“The small Aleph means something different to everyone. 
The small Aleph is silent but it says much. The small Aleph hovers between the Commander and the commands.
The small Aleph is wedged between beginnings and continuations.
It is a signpost between two worlds. The small Aleph is not afraid to stand between giants.
The small Aleph hovers high above the ground,
proud and defiant.
The small Aleph refuses to leave,
refuses to fail, 
refuses to surrender.
The small Aleph stands for the underdog;
the one still hanging on who won’t be defeated.
The small Aleph holds onto its place in history 
with three slender lines.
The small Aleph begins the story of sacrifice.” 

 The book of Vayikra, Leviticus, that we begin today, with that little Aleph, tells us much about sacrifice and the priestly class. It is mostly addressed to the priests, but it does break out of that mold and talk to all of us. It tells us to be holy for G-d is holy. It tells us to “Love our neighbor as ourselves” and to “Not stand idly by while our neighbor bleeds.” These are deep values in Judaism. 

This is also Shabbat Zachor. We read a special reading from a second Torah scroll.  From Deuteronomy 25:  

“Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt—  how, undeterred by fear of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear. Therefore, when your God  Adonai, grants you safety from all your enemies around you, in the land that your God Adonai is giving you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget! 

The rabbis of the Talmud link Amalek with Haman. That’s why we blot out Haman’s name with boos and graggers, noisemakers and stamping of feet. Others have then linked Amalek to Haman and Hitler. In every generation an Amalek has risen up to destroy us.  

This struck me this week. The problem with Amalek is that he and his minions, attacked the rear guard, the stragglers, the women and children and old people. 

It was chilling this week to hear that a maternity hospital had been bombed in Ukraine. It was chilling to hear that Hadassah Hospital who has doctors on the ground in Poland triaging refugees escaping the horrors of war to expect even more difficult cases. People who had means got out relatively quickly. The ones coming soon, are that very ones that are portion describes, the stragglers, the women, the children, the elderly. Those are the ones who will need the most help.  

We are told to remember, to not forget, to blot out the memory of Amalek. Yet, we are also told that those who forget history are doomed to repeat it. We cannot keep it hidden. 

This week we were treated to an amazing presentation by Gale Jacoby about her family, how they escaped Germany and were able to rebuild their lives, slowly over time, here in America. Gale has been working on these stories for years. It is how she keeps the memory of her parents and the horrors of Nazi Germany alive. She has made sure that we all shall remember to never forget. Not Amalek, not Haman, not Hitler.  

However, it is not enough to remember. We must continue to act so that we also remember that we were slaves in Egypt, that our father, Abraham was a wandering Aramean, that we were strangers in the land of Egypt. In our Kiddush prayer marking Shabbat, we are told that we observe Shabbat in memory of the Exodus from Egypt. 

This week on Purim, we add an extra prayer to our Amidah. In the Hoda’ah prayer, the Modim Anachnu Lach, we add an extra paragraph. The Book of Esther is one of two books in the Hebrew Bible that never mention G-d. G-d is hidden in the action, except in folio versions of the megilah like this one, where the standard calligraphy call for writing “HaMelech”, the King, another name for G-d, at the top of every page. Even though G-d was not visible in the text of the Book of Esther, the rabbis added this prayer: 

Al hanisim v’al hapurkan v’al hagurvot…For the miracles and the redemption and for the mighty acts and for the salvation and for the wars that You have done for our ancestors in those days in this season. 

The prayer then continues telling the story of Purim: 

“In the Days of Mordechai and Esther, in Shushan, the capital, when Haman, the wicked, rose up against them and sought to destroy, to slay, and to exterminate all the Jews, young and old, infants and women, on the same day, on the thirteenth of the twelfth month, which is the month of Adar, and to plunder their possessions; But You, in Your abundant mercy, nullified his counsel and frustrated his intention and caused his design to return upon his own head and they hanged him and his sons on the gallows.” 

All year, I’ve been taking a class for women rabbis on art and spirituality. It has been a life line and a way to practice self-care. This week’s class was particularly good. The text study had to do with the hidden light of G-d. One reading from the Zohar:  

“Rabbi Yose said, The light created by God in the act of Creation flared from one end of the universe to the other and was hidden away… for the righteous in the world that is coming…Rabbi Yehudah responded, “If the light were completely hidden, the world would not exist for even a moment… Every single day, a ray of that light shines into the world, animating everything; with that ray God feeds the world. And everywhere that Torah is studied at night, one thread thin ray appears from that hidden light and flows down upon those absorbed in her.*… 

Since the first day, the light has never been fully revealed, but it is vital to the world, renewing each day the act of Creation.” 

One thin ray of light, a thread. Just a thin thread. The word for thread, kav is related to tikvah, hope. And because it can be thin, it can seem hidden, just like the face of G-d in the Purim story. Yet it is there.  

Then we painted. I was reminded of an old Girl Scout song, “there’s a web like a spiders web made of silver light and shadow spun by the moon in my room at night, there’s a web made to catch a dream hold it tight til I awaken as if to tell me that dreaming’s alright.” It was a very powerful image and it felt like I was filled with light in my bed under a chuppah. 

That thin web of light is like the ball of yarn that we used in Guatemala when I was a AJWS global justice fellow to build a tangled web between people. We are all connected by that thin ray of light, that thin thread. It may seem hidden, but it is not. It connects us all. All over the world. All the way to Ukraine and back. It gives me hope. 

Then the prayer…in the words of an old Debbie Friedman song, based on one of my favorite Psalms, Psalm 30. 

“Don’t hide Your face from me, I’m asking for Your help I call to You, please hear my prayers, O God. If You would answer me, as I have called to You, Please heal me now, don’t hide Your face from me.” 

Please heal me now. Please heal us now. Please heal the world now. 

Yesterday I participated in a Vigil on City Hall Plaza for Ukraine. Here are my remarks.

“Music speaks louder than words. It’s the only thing that the world listens to.” Words from Peter, Paul and Mary. The partnership we are exhibiting today between the Coalition of Elgin Religious Leaders and the Elgin Symphony Orchestra just illustrated the power of music when words fail to express our heartbreak and our anger. Music soothes the savage beast. May it be so. 

Your silent presence here today, makes a difference. It its silence it sends a loud message. You, in Ukraine are not alone. 

The prayer that I offer you today was sent to me by Father John Cox, OMI and in its simplicity, it captures my hopes. 

“For those who are fleeing, sanctuary.
For those who are staying, safety.
For those who are fighting, peace.
For those whose hearts are breaking, comfort.
For those who see no future, hope.” 

Poor Claire nuns of Gallway. 

The Jewish people will celebrate Purim, the story of the Book of Esther this week. Earlier today we had children (and me) in costume, recognizing our Super Heros, like the police and fire departments, who like Queen Esther in a previous era, have helped us survive this pandemic. The question could be who is helping the Ukrainians survive.  

In a month we will celebrate Passover. The story of the Passover in the Hagaddah begins with the sentence, “My father was a wandering Aramean.” Throughout our history, Jews have always been refugees. 36 times in the Torah, the first five books of the Hebrew Bible, we are told to welcome the widow, the orphan and the stranger, precisely because we were strangers in the land of Israel. Wherever we have wandered we have been strangers, the other. Sometimes that has even been from Russia and Ukraine.  It is why there are organizations like HIAS that have been working on refugee crisis for over 100 years. Hadassah Hospital already has teams of doctors and nurses on the ground. Last night 17 rabbis left for Poland to do hands on work with those fleeing the horrors of war. Make no mistake, war is a horror.  

Mayor Kaptain, I applaud you for pointing out Elgin’s diversity and promising to help settle refugees here. 

Yesterday we read in synagogue about Amalek. We are supposed to remember to never forget Amalek. What was his crime? He attacked the rear guard when the Israelites were fleeing Egypt. The tired, stragglers, the women, the children, the elderly. The images this week of a maternity ward attacked were chilling. These were the women who could not leave, the rear. I will leave it to you to decide if Putin and his minions are the next generation of Amalek. 

War is hell. It must stop. Oseh shalom bimromav. May the G-d that makes peace in the high heavens make peace here on earth and let us say, Amen. Ufros aleinu sukkat shlomecha. Spread over us, all of us Your fragile sukkah, Your fragile shelter of peace.  

The images are haunting. Women and children sleeping in a subway station with all their worldly possessions surrounding them. Some in suitcases, one a Disney bag with Mickeys and Minnies, not unlike many we saw last week at DisneyWorld, others in trash bags, only what they could carry. Men required to stay home to fight.  

We’ve played this game before. I’m leaving Egypt, Russia, Germany and I’m taking with me an apple, a banana, a canteen of water. This time it is for real and it is no game. Jews have done this before. Over and over again. Many times, they take their candlesticks or a menorah, a priceless book or a samavor. Jerry Goldstein’s family’s samovar is in my office. How you lug something like that is a mystery to me. 

This is Refugee Shabbat. A weekend dedicated to talking about refugee resettlement set up by HIAS, the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society. Our own member, Eugene Klionsky, was helped by HIAS when he left Russia as a 19 year old, with just two suitcases. My brother-in-law Fred Klein, an immigration attorney and judge in Tucson, worked for HIAS for a while.  

The history of the Kleins is tied to refugee work. How? As Fred tells the story, it was because of the United States’s response to the Holocaust. He could not believe that the SS St. Louis, destined for Cuba was turned away and then turned back to Europe. Many of those on the St. Louis were murdered in the various concentration camps. He could not sit idly by.  

Jews have always been refugees. Our Passover story begins with “My father was a wandering Aramean.” Abraham left Haran and settled in Canaan, a land that G-d would show him. Jacob sent his sons to Egypt to find food during a famine. Famine, water scarcity and climate disasters are some of the most common reasons people become refugees. The Israelites wandered in the desert for 40 years. That’s where our story picks up today. 

The mishkan, the tabernacle that the Israelites will carry with them, is completed. It is beautiful. And it remains a mystery where the Israelites found all the supplies they needed, gold, silver, copper, acacia wood, dolphin skins, fine linen, yarn of purple, blue and crimson.  

A footnote in this first weekend of Women’s History Month, it is important to know that the skilled artisans who assembled the mishkan included the women. That was the other sermon I was going to do today.  

The work was finished. The text tells us that “For over the Tabernacle a cloud of Adonai rested by day, and fire would appear in it*in it I.e., in the cloud. by night, in the view of all the house of Israel throughout their journeys.” The mishkan was a place for G-d to dwell and that Presence went with them wherever they wandered. 

For 2 years we have been hosting Shabbat services, every single week on Zoom, removed mostly from our beautiful sanctuary. Look around you. The stain glass is still here. The rainbows dancing on the pews. The purple, the blue, the gold and bronze still here. It is beautiful, Working and davenning remotely did not make us refugees. Imagine abandoning this building for all time.  

For many years, Simon and I were part of a weekly radio show, Faith Alive on WCAP in Lowell. He edited and read the news. I was the Jewish content person. There was a rotating group of Catholic and Protestant clergy. At some point the Catholic Church decided it had to close St. Peters, the large Irish Catholic Cathedral. People were up in arms, Their relatives had built that church by hand with their own sweat equity. They had quarried the granite themselves and it was beautiful. How dare the church close it. That week I was on the show with the Bishop of Lowell, who actually lived in the rectory next door to St. Peters. Now, to be clear, the bishop and I had a rule. We would not discuss abortion or birth control on air. We knew we disagreed. But in the discussion of St. Peters, I said something like, “I don’t understand. Jews have been kicked out of every country in Europe at one time or another. We don’t get attached to our buildings.” The bishop didn’t speak to me for over a year. But then our congregation merged with another in a neighboring town. Then, and only then, as the yahrzeit plaques were removed and the Torahs were carried lovingly, did I begin to understand. The bishop and I reconciled and eventually I told this story as part of one of his eulogies many years later. So I ask you again, imagine losing this building.  

Our Torah teaches us in the words of the non-Jewish prophet that “Ma tovu ohalecha ya’akov. How good, how beautiful are our tents O Jacob, our dwelling places, our sanctuaries O Israel.” So whether you are davenning here in the room or on Zoom or in a subway station in Kiyv or a basement in Maripol, G-d’s Presence is with you. 

Many people have felt paralyzed watching the news unfold. What can we do? We feel powerless. But there are things you can do. We can follow Fred’s example and help settle refugees and asylum seekers. We can advocate for refugees. We can donate money, HIAS and JUF are both options I sent out earlier in the week.  A high school classmate signed up to go to Kyiv by rented an airbnb apartment so that she could send money to a homeowner with a nice note. No, she’s not actually going. The homeowner was so touched. Airbnb is looking for people in the States to open their homes to refugees.  

We Jews, who have all too often known the pain of being refugees, have an obligation here. We are commanded, 36 times in Torah, more than any other commandment, to take care of the widow, the orphan and the stranger. The most vulnerable amongst us. Precisely because we were strangers in the land of Egypt. We have an obligation to act. We have an obligation to hope.  

G-d goes with us, wherever we go. That is the implication of that very last line of the book of Exodus which we just read. G-d dwells in us and among us. Last weekend, one of the most haunting images of Shabbat in Ukraine were Jews davenning in a subway station singing ‘Hiney Ma Tov, How good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together.” Perhaps, Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav, Ukraine, had it right, Kol ha’olam kulo, gesher tzar m’od, The whole world is a narrow bridge, the important thing is to not be afraid. These are the messages of this Refugee Shabbat. 

A Prayer for Ukraine
by Rabbi Menachem Creditor 

God of Peace, 

We call to You, hearts pounding, as we pray for the people of Ukraine who are suffering under tyrant’s attack. Hear their prayers and ours. Support our commitment to stand with them in their time of great need. Please. 

Dear God, how can we say Never Again when bombs fall on Babi Yar, when millions must run for their lives or take shelter in synagogues and subway stations? Haven’t we learned? You Who Remembers all, do not forsake us as we relearn these painful lessons. 

In every generation there arise those who, in selfish pursuit of power, privilege might over moral right, precipitate needless earthquakes despite the tsunamis of human pain that will follow. Holy One, spoil the oppressors’ evil plans, diminish their power. 

God, We have also witnessed great heroism during these dark days, human beings pushing back against tanks with their bare hands, the brave Jewish President of Ukraine, Volodymyr Zelensky and his family, millions of Ukrainians fighting to protect their homes. This is Your Image, strong and courageous, fierce and present. This is Your Outstretched Arm. We ask that You remind us to offer our own. 

As one of Ukraine’s greatest teachers, Rav Nachman, once taught: “The Exodus from Egypt occurs in every human being, in every era, in every year, and in every day.” Holy One, may this teaching be fulfilled speedily and in our days. 

May peace rain down upon the people of Ukraine. May we study war no more. 

Amen.