Baby, it’s cold outside. This week Shabbat was entirely on Zoom because of weather issues. (Windchills around 30 below). Friday night we were treated to some jazz piano of Chanukah favorites and a guided mediation on a candle developed by my professor Rabbi Goldie Millgram. I always find this mediation especially soothing. If you want to try it on your own, I have included it here: http://www.reclaimingjudaism.org/teachings/guided-meditation-flame

Wherever you are, please stay safe in these brutally cold days, and may your light shine brightly.

Here are Shabbat morning’s reflections:

Recently we have talked about dreams, and visions. Jacob’s sulam, that ladder or stairway with the angels that go up and down. Jacob wrestling with the angel. Joseph and the dreams about his brothers and parents. Joseph interpreting the dreams in jail. Joseph interpreting Pharoah’s dreams and rising to prominence as Pharaoh’s vizier, his right hand man, his number two guy Last week we looked at how to interpret our own dreams.  

This week’s haftarah also has a dream, a vision if you will, of what turns out to be the menorah.  

“He said to me, “What do you see?” And I answered, “I see a lampstand all of gold, with a bowl above it. The lamps on it are seven in number, and the lamps above it have seven pipes; and by it are two olive trees, one on the right of the bowl and one on its left.” (Zechariah 4:2) 

He then turned back to the angel and asked him what his dream meant. The angel interpreted the dream: 

“Then he explained to me as follows:. “This is the word of the LORD to Zerubbabel:. ‘Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit.’ said the LORD of Hosts.” 

Debbie Friedman set it to music: 

Not by Might – Debbie Friedman (1990) 

While the explanation of the vision goes on in Zechariah, thus explaning the symbolism of each element of the menorah dream, the haftarah itself ends in a different place. “Whoever you are, O great mountain in the path of Zerubbabel, turn into level ground! For he shall produce that excellent stone; it shall be greeted with shouts of ‘Beautiful! Beautiful!’” 

That word translated as Beautiful, Beautiful is חֵ֥ן  Hain in Hebrew.  

That is a very interesting word and its repetitive use here. We know that if something is repeated, it comes to teach us something. There are no extra words in the Bible, we are taught. 

My first question then, is what do we mean by beauty? Each of you has a menorah—a chanukiah—perhaps more than one and I am willing to guess that each one is different.  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. There is a tradition of hiddur hamitzvah, beautification of the mitzvah. That is part of why there are so many styles of menorot. The vision as described here in the text doesn’t really help me understand what the original menorah looked like. 

But the word hain often means something other than beauty. It can also mean favor or grace. You may know this word from the 13 attributes of the Divine, Chanun v’rachum. In that form it is often seen as solely the providence of G-d. Or you may know it from the phrase, “Matzah hain b’enecha, to find favor in your eyes,” when someone pleads with another, even in this chapter.  

It comes from the verb chanan. Meaning yearn towards, long for, be merciful, compassionate, favourable, inclined towards; It can also mean beautiful—as in eshet hain, a woman of beauty, of grace, of charm. We see this phrase towards the end of Eishet Chayyil, a Woman of Valor, that also talks of her gracious hain speech. That is still one I am working on.  

What then do we make of the use here? That this vision—of the menorah, of a world where we live not by might and not by power but by G-d’s spirit is beautiful. That it is how we guard our speech and be kind, gracious, compassionate.  That it is how we find favor in G-d’s eyes. 

There is one more place that hain shows up and it seems so appropriate for this Shabbat Chanukah. And that is in the Birkat Hocohanim, the priestly benediction. It appears in Numbers, in the parsha just before what we read earlier today. 

Yevarechecha v’yishmarecha, May Adonai bless you and keep you, guard and protect you. 

Ya’er Adoani panav elecha v’chunecha. May Adonai be gracious to you and grant you favor. 

Yisa Adonai panav elecha v’y’sem lecha shalom. May Adoani’s face turn toward you and grant you peace. 

That second line of the three fold blessing is closer to “May G-d’s light shine upon you and be gracious to you.” There is something really beautiful in the idea of G-d’s light shining upon us at Chanukah, this season of light. Maybe that is where the real beauty is, G-d’s light becoming our light so that we can shine in the darkness.  

For me then, this vision is one of beauty and hope. May we each be blessed with light and then may we continue to find beauty and favor as we share our light with others. Light one candle.  Not by might. Not by power. But by spirit alone shall we all live in peace. Amen. 

In planning our Chanukah party, as we often do, we reached out to my colleague, Rabbi Mendal Shem Tov, the Chabad rabbi. The last big party before the pandemic, Rabbi Shem Tov, Rabbi Steve Peskind and Rabbi Ed Friedman were all here. Some times it is easy to collaborate, and sometimes it is more difficult. 2019 had seen an uptick in anti-semitism and we both felt that it was important to be visible together. Sometime after that party, a rabbi was stabbed in his home in New York at his Chanukah party. Then the world shut down for COVID. 

 This year it seemed even more important that ever to come together. He said he would come to our house and that I should plan to speak at the Centre of Elgin Chanukah celebration. These events I find difficult. They are complicated. But if the Chabad rabbi is asking me to speak, I will speak. 

That doesn’t mean I won’t be nervous. It is important to set the right tone. 

I stood at the entrance with the Mayor of Elgin, the police chief and two of the command staff. They got that I was nervous but I don’t think they understand the whys.  

Eventually, we were ushered outside. The police chief spoke first, gracious as usual. She talked about how the Jewish community is protected by the EPD. How delighted she is to be invited for 5 years. She had to leave for a meeting. Then the mayor. He spoke about the diversity of Elgin and why that is important to him and to Elgin and echoed what the police chief said. Rabbi Shem Tov spoke about how the flames of Chanukah are important, they are very very neshoma, our soul. How in this hekchal year it is important to gather. While he was speaking, my phone rang. It was EPD. I actually thought it might be a joke. It was not. Unfortunately, it was all too real.  There was a death and the officers had called for a chaplain. The command staff told me I should speak and then leave.  

I spoke. Badly. I announced that unfortunately I would have to leave to attend to a death. But I thought it was important to say here—after agonizing over it for several days—what I would say. 

Here it is: 

It is an honor to be here tonight to represent Congregation Kneseth Israel. CKI is celebrating 130 years in Elgin. Elgin has been a place of safety for the Jewish community. Our coming together tonight, to light the menorah, the chanukiah, is to share its light. Light is the story of Chanukah. Each night we add to the light, just like the rabbis of the Talmud did 2000 years ago. They argued, debated if you will, whether we should start with 8 lights and decrease them each night or start with one and add light each night. The decision went to add light each night. At this darkest time of the year, on this very dark, cold night, we add another light and increase our joy.  

Martin Luther King said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory said something similar, “There always were two ways to live in a world that is often dark and full of tears. We can curse the darkness, or we can light a light, and as the Chassidim say, a little light drives out much darkness. May we all help light up the world.” 

That is the challenge of Chanukah. How can we each take this light and light up the world, as individuals and as communities. Events like this celebration tonight help increase our joy and increase the light in this world. May it be so! Thank you to Rabbi Shemtov for including me and members of CKI and the wider Elgin community. 

What if the phone rings and it is the Black Baptist pastor asking if the synagogue is safe? If we, the Jewish community is OK? What if the president of the synagogue helps the neighboring black church write a Homeland Security grant and both the church and the synagogue gets them? What if almost every conversation with anybody eventually turns to talk of anti-semitism? 

It is clear that anti-semitism and hate crimes are on the rise. Sadly, in some places tensions have risen between the black communities and the Jewish communities as well. How do you combat a casual comment that people, Jews in particular are picking on Kanye West? What do you do when some African Americans think that Ye was right? What is the big deal with Nick Fuertes and Ye having dinner with Trump? 

What if Elgin has a better way? 

Last night, my husband and I hosted a Chanukah party at our home for leaders in town. Jewish leaders, Black leaders, City leaders. An open house. We had clergy, lay leaders, police officers, elected officials. Mostly we stood around the dining room table, eating latkes with apple sauce or sour cream and mac and cheese. One person having latkes for the first time said, “Oh, so they are like hash browns with apple pie filling.” Right! 

The word Chanukah means dedication. This party was set up to make a visual statement that Elgin is “No place for hate.” We were rededicating ourselves to that vision. 

The conversations were important. Discussions of hunger and homelessness. A newer book, KosherSoul. The political landscape. Policing and racism and the work of the Taskforce on Policing that recently completed their work. The idea that we have deep connections and deep relationships already.  

Many of the people there have been working for years on policing and racism. Some of those conversations through the years have been hard. Some have been poignant. And some have been funny. One year we had a mac and cheese cook off. I lost. Wacky Mac, a prepackaged Kosher mac and cheese like Kraft, just doesn’t cut it. Reggie Kees won.  

Last night I was told to leave mac and cheese to the blacks. Really. One of our Jewish friends walked in and asked where I had found all these beautiful black people. The blacks were not offended, but I was. 

My friend, Tiffany, who is on the Gail Borden Public Library board, kept me relaxed and reminded me that it is all OK. She told me that African Americans are not so easily offended. We danced to “We are family.” I said I’ve never had sisters and always wanted them. She said, “Well, you’ve got them now.” She brought me two mugs that I love. One says Nosh. I had to teach her that word. She taught me years ago now the term boujee. (a hip-hop slang for something “luxurious in lifestyle yet humble in character,” 

 There was a long conversations about favorite rock albums. Lots of Led Zeplin and the Beetles. People who said they were leaving and then stayed and stayed and stayed. It was casual. It was magical. 

We lit the candles and took one, just one photo of the candles and the very diverse group gathered. I talked very briefly about King and Heschel misquoting them both I’m sure. Here are the real quotes. 

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” Martin Luther King, jr. 

Heschel, who marched with King said that his feet were praying. Last night, we prayed with all our being, just by showing up, just by walking up those three stairs into a house that might be unfamiliar, eating maybe your first latke. 

“There always were two ways to live in a world that is often dark and full of tears. We can curse the darkness or we can light a light, and as the Chassidim say, a little light drives out much darkness. May we all help light up the world.”—Rabbi Jonathan Sacks z”l 

Then we took one group photo. One. Then more people came.  

Later in the evening, I had to tell the story about Susannah Heschel and the orange on the seder plate. Both versions. We talked about Richard Rohr’s Divine Dance and Toba Spitzer’s God is Here. People took turns spinning a dreidle, talking about miracles, working a puzzle. 

As it was reported to me, the mayor of New York at a recent summit about anti-semitism told the clergy gathered to invite other clergy out to dinner. Just groups of 10. To McDonalds, or a restaurant or to a home. Our invitations for this event had gone out prior to the mayor’s summit. We were on to something.  

I know that this is a very busy time of the year. I know that people made time to come last night. I am deeply touched.   

How to combat anti-semitism. Be visible. Loud and proud as the saying goes. Be authentic. Be open. Build lasting deep relationships. Friendships. Share food. Break bread. Maybe we need to rewrite the golden rule: Show up for others as you would have them show up for you! Love your neighbor as yourself. Period.  

Here is what I know. Some day there could be an anti-semetic event in Elgin. There could be a hate crime. It is sadly the world we are living in. There is no doubt that there would be an immediate, serious appropriate response.  

Last night was “just a Chanukah party” and so much more. Maybe, just maybe, because of parties like last night, our corner of the world is just a little safer.  No big statements decrying racism or anti-semitism. Just good food, good conversation and deep, deep appreciation for one another. And lots of hugs. Happy Chanukah. Merry Christmas. Merry Everything.

Thank you, Elgin.  

After Torah Study this week where we looked at Chapter 37 of the Book of Genesis, I watched the news. Chapter 37 starts with Jacob vayeshev, he sat down, he dwelled, he settled. After all that he had been through—tricking his brother out of his birthright, running away from home, finding Rachel at the well, working for seven years for Rachel, being tricked himself and working another seven years, he is finally his own man. Four wives, twelve children, and a large flock, he headed home. He settled down. Perhaps he retired.  

And he loved Jospeh, his favored son. And he gives him a gift, a katonet pasim, as our translation calls it, an ornamented tunic. The meaning of the Hebrew is uncertain and earlier this year I got a phone call from a Lutheran pastor who is helping the director of an upcoming production of Joseph and His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Could it be that the translation is long in the sleaves or just long coat. After some study of classic texts we concluded it could be, but that it is ambiguous, so we are back to meaning of Hebrew uncertain.  

In any case, this was a special gift. And it enraged the brothers. They were jealous. And Joseph’s dreams didn’t help any. They wanted to kill their brother. Only Reuven objects to the plan and convince them to throw him into a pit. After he is sold into some form of slavery, the brothers take that coat, smear it with blood and convince Jacob that his beloved son is dead. Jacob goes into deep mourning. This is a horrible story on so many levels. The text demands of us, we have to do better.  

Back to the news. There was a very sad story on Thursday night. Earlier in the week two brothers were murdered in their own alley right behind their house. Their mother had told them not to go out. They went any way. The lead story on NBC Chicago Thursday night was that it was a crime of jealousy. Apparently, whoever killed these two young men wanted the coat that one of them was wearing. They stole the coat and left the brothers to die. This is a horrible story on so many levels. We have to do better.  

This week we marked the sad anniversary of the massacre at Sandy Hook in Newtown, CT. Now Newtown is about half way between Boston and New York and it was common for me to stop there on my way home from rabbinical school. My college roommate lives there. We would often enjoy a sushi meal together with her young son before I would journey on to Boston. That son was a kindergartner when Sandy Hook happened. He was in a different building, but my college roommate went through the predictable panic until she could hold her son. I was newly in Elgin. We kept our phone line open all afternoon as the horror became clearer. It was the first night of Chanukah. I had taught the kids in Torah School, the Debbie Friedman song, Not by might, based on the haftarah for Shabbat Chanukah. We made a video, sent it to my roommate and she shared it with her friends and other moms. 

Since Sandy Hook, there continues to be too much gun violence. This year according to Forbes citing Gun Violence Archive there have been 611 mass shooting through Nov.25, 2022. This statistic does not include the two brothers in their alley killed over a coat. But it does include stories that continue to be in the headlines. Uvalde. Highland Park Fourth of July Parade. This, too, is a horrible story. We have to do better.  

Perhaps you will not agree with me, but when I called our state representative’s office about two other issues, the IL Safety and Security Grant, a funding bill she helped write and her recording of her talk on stumbling stones in Munich, we would up talking about gun violence. She is one of the co-sponsors of a bill to ban assault rifles in Illinois. If that bill passes, and I pray that it does, it will not end all gun violence. If it is in your nature, I urge you to check out organizations like the Sandy Hook Promise, Moms Demand Action, Everytown and Brady United. None of them are partisan. If you are so willing, I urge you to reach out to your elected officials, of whichever party and make your views known. We have to do better. Jealousy over a coat—Joseph’s or a teenager in Illinois in 2022 is not a reason to resort to violence. Period.  

In the words of the Chanuakh haftarah, which always being me hope: 

Not by might and not by power
But by spirit alone
Shall we all live in peace. 

May we rededicate ourselves to this vision. 

Cain and Abel  

Isaac and Ishmael 

Jacob and Esau and later still 

Joseph and his brothers 

Throughout the book of Genesis we have pairs of siblings that fall out of favor with each other. Sibling rivalry is a real thing. We are told in today’s story that Jacob and Esau reconciled—but then they went their own ways.  

What does it mean to reconcile? Jacob sent Esau gifts ahead of his arrival. Our Torah Study group talked about whether they were gifts to propriate himself as our translation said or to appease Esau or perhaps they were bribes. Last night we talked a little about gits and particularly at this gift giving season, even in the Jewish community, that is an important conversation. How we give gifts and why is important. (See below) 

This week I had the opportunity to go to someone’s house for coffee and an important conversation about hunger and homelessness in the City of Elgin and long term strategic planning hopefully leading to systemic change. Halfway out the door I texted her and said I could stop and pick up something at Arabica. She had already picked up some baked goods at Herb’s so I did not. But I could hear my mother saying never go empty handed. How many of you were taught that, never go empty handed. When I was In Guatemala as an AJWS fellow I learned something new to me about gift giving. It can change the balance of power, and not necessarily in a good way. We were asked not to bring gifts to the agencies we were visiting. Why? Because then they might feel a need to reciprocate, and they may not be in a financial position to do so, or they may feel embarrassed—or it would come out of the monies that AJWS had granted them thus defeating the purpose of the grant. I thought about that, and our parsha as I headed over to Joann’s for a lovely morning of coffee, donuts, planning and conversation. 

Gifts can be used to show off—look how great, wealthy, successful I am. Or they can be used as a symbol of love—we will see that in tomorrow’s wedding in an exchange of rings, a token, a symbol of Zack and Lila’s love for one another, or they can be used as one member of our Torah study group said as a bribe. If you accept this gift, then you won’t be mad at me anymore, you won’t want to kill me, you won’t…. 

This week the School of the Art Institute of Chicago took back a gift that they had given to Kanye West. His honorary doctorate from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago has been rescinded, and the school’s president condemned the artist’s recent antisemitic and racist statements. Honorary degrees are a gift, they are something that don’t have to happen and are used to recognize a significant body of work.  

‘“Ye’s actions do not align with SAIC’s mission and values, and we’ve rescinded his honorary degree,” President Elissa Tenny said in a statement to BuzzFeed News on Thursday. Tenny described the recent comments from the rapper, who recently changed his name to Ye, as “anti-Black, antisemitic, racist, and dangerous, particularly those directed at Black and Jewish communities.”’ 

This is not the first time this kind of thing has happened. I remember the long discussion at the Jewish Theological Seminary about its library when it was named for Ivan Boesky who was convicted of insider trading and junk bonds. Ultimately in 1987, after Ivan Boesky was convicted JTS took his name off of the library he had built for them. 

Sometimes I am asked an age-old question. Is it good for the Jews or bad for the Jews? One example was with Weinstein who was back in the news this week. While the trial is still going on I will comment only this way. It appears that Weinstein is bad for women, bad for humanity and therefore bad for the Jews.  

I wrestled with what to talk about this morning. Later in this portion but not in the section we just read we have the rape of Dinah. As a community that just hosted Anita Diamant whose best seller, The Red Tent deals with this brief story, I thought maybe we should look at Dinah. Having a background in rape and domestic violence counseling and a book on that topic, you might have thought that I might have talked about Dinah this morning. I will commend to you Rabbi Paul Kipnes about Jacob’s silence at Dinah’s rape and Joseph’s encounters with Potiphar’s wife. https://reformjudaism.org/learning/torah-study/torah-commentary/jacob-awakens-sexual-assaults-suffered-his-children?fbclid=IwAR35LYkvqNLax2Xy3BEmvpPbRTDVOlYc7F_nYyC10CbtmqGkhjThBbn1XrM   

Ultimately this morning, I want to talk about reconciliation. There are several people in this congregation who have struggled with children who are estranged or who have rough relationships with parents, siblings, friends. People who have wanted to reconcile but may not even know what caused the split.  

We talk about this often, especially before Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. We are told that for sins against G-d Yom Kippur atones but for sins against our fellow, we must make peace with them first. This is the basis of teshuvah, return, repentance.  

Jacob is returning. Physically, at least, to Canaan. Mentally, spiritual, he is afraid. He works to protect his family and he is alone, where he wrestles with a man? An angel? Himself? G-d? His name is changed from Jacob, the heel to Yisrael, Israel, One who wrestles with G-d. And he limps away to his encounter with Esau. Yet I am not sure he really reconciles with Esau. He doesn’t seem to follow the steps of teshuvah of repentance that Maimonides outlines centuries later.  

1. Regret. As Rabbi Paul Kipnes points out. “No wrongdoing can be transformed until we first recognize the error of our ways.” This is a highly personal, private step. We must feel remorse for what we have done. Does Jacob regret stealing the birthright? There is no evidence of that in the text.  

1. Renounce. Admit you made a mistake. Acknowledge to yourself that your actions were wrong. Don’t make up excuses or rationalizations. Promise you are not going to do this again.  

1. Confess: Say you are sorry out loud to someone else. Say it directly to the victim. The act of saying it out loud makes it more concrete. Judaism teaches that repentance and reconciliation only happens with the person directly affected. The book The Sunflower by Simon Wiesenthal addresses this question directly about an SS guard who wants Simon to grant forgiveness to him on his death bed after horrendous crimes against a Jewish community. Simon really wrestles with whether he can do that since the victims are dead. Read the book. 

1. Reconcile: Rabbi Paul Kipnes explains: “These first three steps address the sinner’s needs. Step four, reconcile, focuses on the one wronged. However commendable regret or confession may be, these alone do not heal someone who has been hurt or deceived. If teshuva is to be more than a simple way for the sinner to feel good again – if it is to become a tool for repairing souls, both the sinner’s and the victim’s – then it must transcend the realm of the emotion and conversation, and enter the tangible world of action. To reconcile with the person wronged begins with sincere apology. It continues with a long term investment of our time and energy, as long as necessary, until the sinner and the person wronged are able to work through this problem. We may need to spend significant time talking. We may need to give the other person time alone and space. Be patient. You see, we quickly hurt others but it takes time to heal.” 

1. Make amends: Part of teshuva is making amends. This may be accomplished with tzedakah, with volunteering, with monetary recompense. It may mean providing for counseling or therapy for the victim. As Paul Kipnes adds, “While a donation of money cannot buy forgiveness, it can help others who were similarly hurt if the tzedakah is given to appropriate organizations.” The question then becomes what were the gifts that Jacob gave to Esau. A way to affect reconciliation? A bribe? An attempt to buy forgiveness? Did he skip right to this step? 

1. Resolve: This is the step that for some is hardest. If confronted with the same situation, we resolve to not do it again.  

If you want to read Rabbi Kipnes’s full understanding of the Maimonides, it is here: https://www.paulkipnes.com/6-steps-of-teshuvah/ 

Jacob doesn’t seem to do each of these steps. He doesn’t seem to regret stealing the birthright or renounce his actions. How might this whole thing change if he had given back the birthright or split it with Esau in some sort of meaningful way? He didn’t apology or confess his actions. He didn’t make amends and he didn’t promise to never do it again. Similarly, Esau didn’t acknowledge his threat that he was going to kill Jacob, or promise to never do it again. Instead, after all of Jacob’s gifts raising the question of whether you can really buy reconciliation—that’s not in Maimonides’ steps by the way, and after a kiss that Rashi said was insincere, the brothers agree to just go their separate ways.  

What then do we do? We work these steps carefully. Step by step by step. And we realize that sometimes they still may not work. The person needs to feel safe and safety is hard to guarantee. Sometimes the person we are trying to reconcile with may be so wounded that they are not interested. Sometimes the person we are trying to reconcile with may have deeply seated underlying mental health issues. Sometimes, like Jacob and Esau, it may make more sense to just agree to go our separate ways.  

Kabbalat Shabbat: 

This is a gift. A small token of friendship. A Chanukah tzotchke. Purchased at Target by my phlebotomist. Not because she had to. Not out of some sense of obligation. Because she saw it and wanted to do something nice.  

There has been a lot written about anti-semitism these days. It is clear that hate crimes are on the rise, sadly. Charlie Neuman sent a video this week from Beit Tefilah that echoes what many of us learned. Based on last week’s Torah portion and the seeming almost reconciliation of Jacob and Esau, the rabbi was taught that they all hate us. All the non-Jews. He was taught in his very Jewish neighborhood to cross the street instead of walking by the one church in the neighborhood. Many of us were taught similar things. He says it is not true. They don’t all hate us and that is important to remember. That we need to bless the non-Jews that do like us. He based it on the text that we are all created b’tzelm elohim, in the image of G-d. I would echo his sentiments and add to them. We are taught to love our neighbors as ourselves, which he says applies to loving our Jewish neighbors. The text is not clear. Rayecha can be translated as neighbor, fellow or kin. But later on we are also told we should love the stranger in our gates. So really it is still all about unconditional love of our fellow, Jew or not.  

https://bethtfiloh.myschoolapp.com/app/detail/video/11515102  

Recently there was a meme that many of my colleagues posted that said, “If you are wondering what to get me for Hanukkah, I’m really into, unequivocal condemnations of anti-semitism.” That would be lovely—and just such an article appeared as an op-ed from a Catholic priest in the Daily Herald. https://www.dailyherald.com/discuss/20221207/a-christian-call-to-stand-up-against-growing-antisemitism?cid=search  And earlier today, Judi Tepe had a  lovely response printed.  https://www.dailyherald.com/discuss/20221212/letter-expressions-of-support-are-appreciated 

It’s a start. But also a start—the Interfaith Thanksgiving Service. The deep connections and relationships we have built over time with our neighboring religious leaders. The phone calls I have received asking what they can do to help, and this little gift. Antisemitism will not go away overnight. It takes us being vigilant. It takes us being visible. It takes us demonstrating loving our neighbors. Over and over again. It takes us standing up for the vulnerable, Jewish or not. And it takes just being a friend. 

After Jacob’s dream, he opened up his eyes and proclaimed, “Surely Adonai is present in this place, and I did not know it!” (Gen 28:16) 

Wow! G-d is in this place! This very place. Try it. Wow! It is an awesome moment.  

How do we see G-d’s presence? We talked a little bit about this last week when we talked about searching for G-d, l’dorosh et Adonai, to seek out, to look for G-d. 

The TaNaCh itself gives us some clues. In this case, Jacob is alone, in the wilderness. He opened up his eyes and he saw. Moses had a similar experience, also in the wilderness, also alone: 

“A messenger of Adonai appeared to him in a blazing fire out of a bush. He gazed, and there was a bush all aflame, yet the bush was not consumed. Moses said, ‘I must turn aside to look at this marvelous sight; why doesn’t the bush burn up?’ When Adonai  saw that he had turned aside to look, God called to him out of the bush: ‘Moses! Moses!’ He answered, ‘Here I am.’” Like Jacob, Moses knew he was standing on holy ground. He took off his shoes.  

There is another example with Moses. Moses is really angry after he found his people dancing around the Golden Calf. He smashed the luach, the tablet containing the 10 Commandments. G-d demanded he go back up the mountain and get another set. Moses didn’t want to go. He demanded to know who would go with him. He demanded to see G-d. G-d promised that G-d G-d’s self would go, would give Moses rest, hide Moses in the cleft, the cranny, the crevice of the rock and that G-d’s presence would go before him. Yet cautioned that one cannot see G-d and live so it would just be G-d’s backside, whatever that means since we believe that G-d does not have a body. 

These encounters are not just with the big characters in the Bible. Hagar, the other as her name means. Hagar, Sarah’s slave girl, Abraham’s concubine. Hagar at the well. She had an encounter with an angel, a messenger, and she is the first person, male or female to name G-d. And she called Adonai, “You Are El-roi,” The Hebrew on that is uncertain but apparently it means something like, G-d of Seeing because G-d had seen her and she felt seen.   

Hagar again had another experience in the wilderness. This time she is not entirely alone. She has Ishmael, her son, with her. They have run out of food and water. She cries out, “Don’t let me look on while the lad dies,” (Notice in the text she doesn’t pray per se, that’s a whole d’var Torah for another time!) G-d opened her eyes and she saw the well.  

One learning from these texts is that we need to be open to the possibility. We need to slow down and look. The song from Simon and Garfunkel goes through my head, “Slow down, you move to fast, you got to make the morning last.”  

If we don’t slow down, we can miss the miracles. If we don’t open our eyes, we don’t see the evidence of G-d. 

This is the season of miracles. We know the story of Chanukah. We know those miracles.  

Our tradition gives thanks for miracles, and this seems appropriate in this first weekend after American Thanksgiving. The tradition in our siddur, prayerbook of Modim Anachnu Lach begins. “We praise you.” But perhaps this is a better translation since we know that they first word means thanks: 

“We give thanks to You that you are the Lord our God, and God of our ancestors forever and ever, Rock of our lives and Shield of our salvation from generation to generation. 

We give thanks to you and recount your praises, for our lives that are entrusted in your hand, and for our souls that are in your safekeeping, and for your miracles that are with us every day, and for your wonders and good deeds that are with us at all times: evening, morning, and midday. 

Good One, your mercies never fail us, Compassionate One, your loving kindness never ceases.” 

The emphasis is mine. Thankful for miracles that are with us every day, morning, noon and night. That could be a sunrise, a sunset, the birth of a child, recovering from illness, having a job and a roof over our heads. The miracles never cease.  

This prayer gets an added paragraph for Chanukah. “We thank you for the miraculous deliverance, for the heroism, and for the trimphs of our ancestors from ancient days until our time.” It really starts, “Al hanisim, on the miracles.” And then continues with the story of Chanukah. There is a parallel paragraph for Purim, which is interesting because if you remember the story of the Book of Esther, G-d never appears in the Book of Esther, but if we open our eyes, we can see the evidence. 

Every day miracles, ones that we can see, every day if we open our eyes, and pause long enough to see. 

Sometimes, however, we miss the miracles. In the Talmud there is a story about crossing the Sea of Reeds. Perhaps it is best retold in Rabbi Larry Kusher’s book, The Book of Miracles. In this story, Shimon and Reuven walking through the mucky Sea of Reeds after it has parted. But all they see is the mud and how dirty their sandals were getting. They missed the miracle. Contrast that if you will, with the story of the lowly bondswoman, a maid servent. She saw the miracle of the parting of the sea. She saw G-d. While the prophet Ezeiel only saw visions of the Divine. (Mechilta)  

Look around you. Here right now and as we continue to celebrate Shabbat and into the week. Find those moments of holiness. Open up your eyes.  

Cantor Jeff Klepper wrote and recorded a song years ago that a congregation I worke in used before the Sh’ma, the proclamation of our faith, that G-d is One: 

“Open up our eyes.
Teach us how to live.
Fill our hearts with joy and all the love You have to give.
Gather us in peace as you lead us to Your name.
And we will know that you are One.
We will know that you are One.” 

Open Up Our Eyes 

Open up our eyes. Teach us how to live.
Open up my eyes. Teach me how to live.  

And then we will see that G-d is Here. Wow!