Today we read the Song at the Sea, the song that the Israelites sang when as I say week after week they sang with Moses when they reached the other side after the Sea of Reeds parted, after the Israelites walked through, after the Egyptians drowned, the chariots, the drivers, and yes, the horses.  

“We just lived through a miracle, we’re going to dance tonight,” Debbie Friedman, z’l wrote as part of her song. And dance they apparently did. And sang. With their tambourines. The women remembered to bring them with them when they fled from Egypt. I don’t know that I would have remembered mine. And yet even before having participated in Violins of Hope last year, we know that people fleeing the ravages of the Holocaust most certainly carried their instruments with them. Maybe not a piano, and only a very few cellos, but my tamborine might have fit.  

Last night we brainstormed what we would be feeling, now that we have escaped out of the narrow places: 

Relief, joy, anxiety, fear, trepidation, amazement, awe, determination. There may be even more. 

Yet they all sang. Together but In the singular. Az yashir, Then Moses…Ze eli, this is my God. 

Last night we listened to a variety of Mi Chamocha songs that represent many of those emotions we could name and imagine. (Some are at the end of this writing.) 

At Torah Study I said that I have a hard time with this text. Once I said that in this congregation and people were surprised that a rabbi would have a problem with Torah text. We should just accept it as written. The sense was it came from God and therefore we can’t question it. But Jews are Godwrestlers, so wrestling and questioning the text is appropriate.  

As a woman I am not comfortable with the idea of G-d as a G-d of War. Usually, I don’t think that there is much of a difference between women’s images of G-d and men’s.  But here “Miriam took her timbrel in her hand and all the women followed her, just as she had planned.” The text tells us they sang the same song, or at least the beginning of the song. Or as some sources say, it was really Miriam who wrote the whole thing.  

Mekhilta teaches us that while Ezekiel and Isaiah had visions of the Divine, “even a lowly bondswoman  at the shore of the sea, saw directly the power of the Almighty in splitting the sea unlike Isiah and Ezekiel who only saw visions of the Divine. All recognized in that instant their personal redemption and therefore all of them opened their mouths to sing in unison. 

And still maybe not everyone saw the miracle: 

Rabbi Larry Kushner tells the midrashic story of Reuven and Shimon. They kept their heads down complaining about the muck. While the sea parted and was safe to walk on, (I imagine it like the walk to Bar Island in Bar Harbor), it wasn’t completely dry, more like a beach at low tide. “This is just like the slime pits of Egypt!” replied Reuven. “What’s the difference?” Complained Shimon. “Mud here, mud there; it’s all the same.”  

And so, it went for the two of them, grumbling all the way across the bottom of the sea. And, because they never once looked up, they never understood why on the distant shore, everyone else was singing and dancing. For Reuven and Shimon the miracle never happened. (Shmot Rabbah 24:1) 

I have wrestled with this text for so long, I wrote a paper about it in rabbinical school. What saved it for me then was the line, “Ozi v’zimrat Yah, v’hi lishu’a. G-d is my strength and my might and my song, G-d is my deliverer.” I need strength, Lord, Oh, do I need strength. You might too. Strength and courage and fortitude: determination and perseverance to face whatever comes next, to come out on the other side, just like the Israelites walking through the sea. I once sang this song riding a bicycle in a fundraising event. I don’t ride bicycles and I was petrified. Note again, this song is in the singular, that we sing as a collective. 

But this text needed to be looked at again, particularly this year as the war in Israel and Palestine continues. I don’t pray that G-d is on our side and this feels dangerously close to that. I don’t pray that Michigan wins a football game either. I may pray for a clean game with no injuries and no penalties. But not usually. (in case you are wondering) 

This weekend we mark the yahrzeit of Yuval Berger. You will hear his name later on the Kaddish list. He was my boyfriend in high school. He was part of a Reform Movement exchange program and spent six months in Grand Rapids. The night he was heading back to Israel I got a flat tire in his host family’s driveway. We started up our relationship again when I lived in Israel as an undergraduate. We spent time hiking and swimming as many young Israeli couples do. We planned to get married after I finished Tufts. I would become a rabbi and he would be a shliach, an emissary. Six months we would live in the States. Six months we would live in Israel, working with American kids falling in love with the land, the people, the state of Israel. That dream was not to happen. There was no miracle for Yuval. But I didn’t blame G-d, and I didn’t blame Lebanon, and I didn’t blame Israel. He died a hero making sure the men under his authority were not also killed. I worked for peace so that no family would have to experience the pain that I endured. I even wrote part of my rabbinical thesis about the Israel Palestine conflict. That section is sadly very much in play. 

I looked at the 13 Attributes of the Divine. You know them and we will explore them again at Passover. The Lord is G-d, merciful and gracious, slow to anger and full of lovingkindness. This is the G-d of love, the opposite of the zealous, jealous G-d of war. BUT the verse doesn’t end there. It continues that G-d visits the sins of the parents on the children and the children’s children to the 3rd and 4th generation. How can that be? It would seem we are seeing it now in the very context I explored in my thesis.  

I don’t have the answers. But I do know this. In order for there to be forgiveness and reconciliation, prerequistes for peace, there needs to a sense of safety. At the moment, no one in Israel or Palestine feels safe. Whatever happens next I fear that there has been damage to the next two or three generations. On both sides. Full stop. I fear that something even worse will emerge after Hamas. I fear. I am sad, angry, disappointed. And yet, I find hope. Hope is in the Kibbutz Be’eri planting wheat again, Hope is in the volunteers rising to keep Israel’s rich agricultural industry going. Hope is in people making breakfasts for soldiers, providing protective gear, stepping up- in all sorts of unimaginable ways. Hope is providing help for those suffering from PTSD and trauma, because make no mistake this is trauma. And hope is finding people who continue to work for peace. 

God is a God o War? I am not so sure. People are people of peace or war. Ecclesiastes teachs that there is a time for everything. A time for peace and a time for war. I pray it is not too late. I will continue to work for peace as part of Yuval’s legacy. 

So the Israelites are safe on the other side and they are singing,  

In the Hagaddah  we learn a teaching from the Talmud. As we are spilling out a drop of wine one for each plague, : 

“The angels rejoicing and breaking out into song (Isaiah 6: 3) when the Israelites are finally safe. The Holy One isn’t pleased with their rejoicing. “My creatures, the work of my hands, the Egyptians are drowning in the sea and you sing songs.” This indicates that God does not rejoice over the downfall of the wicked. Rabbi Elazar said that this is how the matter is to be understood: Indeed, God Himself does not rejoice over the downfall of the wicked, but He causes others to rejoice. (Megilah 10b) 

 I am not alone in wrestling with this verse that God is a God of war. Rabbi Evan Schultz also wrestled with this text:
“As they continue on, however, as they get closer to the shores of the sea, the Israelites shift their song. They begin sing of God’s love and compassion. How can God be both? Which one is it? Is God a God of war or a God of love? Perhaps it is both. In so many ways we humans emulate the divine. There are times, most painfully, as we see right now, that we are people of war. I know, too, that we are, and have the potential to be, people of love and compassion.” 

May we be like G-d, finding love and compassion for all God’s creatures. For Israelis and Palestinians. For all those grieving, whether recently or in times gone by.  

 May we hear the words of Joanne Fink, the poet artist who said this week: 

Grant me the courage to enter
the waters of the unknown,
and the faith to believe You will always provide a path.
When I am stumbling across the desert of uncertainty and despair,
help me remember that You accompanied my ancestors
as they journeyed from slavery to freedom—
and that You are with me, too. 

OPEN MY EYES
to the beauty and miracles surrounding me. 

OPEN MY LIPS
that my soul may burst forth in song. 

OPEN MY HEART
that the notes I sing may become part
of the canvas of my prayer. 

Amen. 

Some links to Mi Chamocha:

Nefesh Mounttain:

Ashira L’adonai: Formal

Debbie Firedman:

“And when your children ask you, ‘What do you mean by this rite?’ 

you shall say, ‘It is the Passover sacrifice to YHVH, who passed over the houses of the Israelites in Egypt when smiting the Egyptians, but saved our houses.’ (Exodus 12:26-27) 

The earliest “seder” was simple. It was lamb, unleavened bread (matzah)and bitter herbs. That’s it. No two entrees. No matzah ball soup and giilte fish. No competition on who can make the tastiest kosher for Passover dessert. It was designed to get children to ask this very question. “What do you mean…” 

In other parts of the Exodus there are other answers. We know this language. It is part of the Hagadah, the telling of the story of the Exodus from Egypt, the story of our people’s very beginning.  

Ms nishtanah…why is this night different? It is because of what G-d did for ME when I went forth from Egypt.” But really was I there? The midrash would say yes. We all participated in the Exodus, even those not yet born. We all walked through the Sea of Rees. We all stood at Sinai, 

But how do we tell the story?  

Once upon a time…no that’s not quite right. This story is not yet over…we are still completing it and all o the story does not end happlily ever after. 

The Hagaddah itself gives us clues: 

“In every generation one is obligated to see oneself as one who personally went out from Egypt. Just as it says, ‘You shall tell your child on that very day: “It is because of this that God did for me when I went out from Egypt.” ’ (Exodus 13:8) Not only were our ancestors redeemed by the Holy One, but even we were redeemed with them. Just as it says: ‘God took us out from there in order to bring us and to give us the land God swore to our ancestors.’ ” (Deuteronomy 6:23) 

 Rabbi Shmuly Yanklowitz , in article for the Jewish Journal said: “Such spiritual work is never simple. The esteemed 20th-century Musar teacher Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe explains: “We see ourselves in the other, as if every person we encounter is simply a mirror in which we see ourselves! … [W]e have not yet freed ourselves from the self-centered perspective to see that the other is not identified with us…. [I]t is incumbent upon us to focus on the way the other differs from us and see that which the other needs, not that which we need.” (Alei Shur 2:6) Rav Wolbe teaches powerfully here that to understand the other, we must transcend the self. While it is difficult to understand another’s trauma and impossible to grasp the extent of another’s suffering, we can create the spaces to listen, to cultivate empathy and respond to others’ needs. We must go beyond the notion that we tend only to our own needs — that is not ethical Judaism. Rather, it is essential that we tend to the needs of the other in our midst.” 

 Each of us is to see ourselves as though we came out of the narrow places because that’s what Mitzrayim, Egypt means. Each of us have had narrow places we have been in. Telling those stories, both the ancient Exodus from Egypt and our own stories is what this parsha is about. 

How do we do that? Some people compile their own hagaddah. Some people write their own cookbook and tell family history through the recipes. Some people write an ethical will, which we talked about a few weeks ago.  Some people sit around the Passover table during the meal itself and tell these very stories.  

And some people write a memoir. Memoirs are an important style of writing. There are fill in the blank books to help you with this. Bruce Feiler provides a template in the extras of his book, Life is in the Transitions. The same format he used with his own dad. One of my favorite quotes is “Everybody has a story, and not always the story the listener or teller expects to hear. The sharing is what brings out the surprise.”  

There are other online guides. Gareth used to teach a class at Gail Borden. Others may at various other places. 

Here are some suggested seven steps from one online source: 

1. Narrow your focus 
2. Include more than just your story
3. Tell the truth 
4. Put your readers in your shoes
5. Employ elements of fiction 
6. Create an emotional journey 
7. Showcase your personal growth 

https://thewritelife.com/how-to-write-a-memoir/  

What is the story we want to tell our children? And what is the story our kids want to hear. One in the congregation this Shabbat said, “What are the tips that you can give us to get through our B’nei Mitzvah.” Another said, “What mistakes did you make? What did you learn from them and how do we avoid them.” Thos mistakes may be talking about how we got out of our own narrow spaces, our own Mitzrayim. Is it any wonder as we sit her on a cold Shabbat morning when the spring holiday of Passover seems so very far away that Passover is the most celebrated of American Jewish holidays? It is all about the story telling!  

This weekend marks the 100th day of Israelis in captivity in Gaza. There are still 129 people being held. Let me perfectly clear, the attacks on Israel on October 7, 2023 were reprehensible. They need to be condemned in the strongest possible terms. We were asked to particularly keep Hersh Goldberg in mind, so as I kneaded my challah this week that is who I was thinking of. #bring_hersh_home. Bring them all home now.  

This week we will be treated by a presentation of Alden Solovy, a poet who writes as he calls them poem prayers. He was here at CKI last year on Tisha B’av. I read his material regularly because I would call him a modern day piyutan, a poet who writes liturgical prayers. For example…You need a prayer for healing of breast cancer? He’s got one. You need something about fetal demise? He’s got one. Almost any modern day crisis? He’s got one.  

But he discovered early in the war he had no words. What happens when a poet has not words? Perhaps we will find out. And then he did find some. Here is one example fitting for today: 

The Court of the Captives
One day,
The court of the captives
Will convene
Before the halls of power.
They will bring
Their torment and suffering
As evidence against us,
As evidence of our failure
To protect them,
As evidence of our failure
To redeem them
With speed and urgency. 

On that day,
The court of the innocent
At the gates of heaven
Will join the chorus –
The newly murdered,
Babies and dreamers,
Parents and children –
Bringing their blood
As evidence against us,
As evidence of our failure
To protect them,
As evidence of our failure
To secure our land and our people. 

On that day,
The court of the captives,
And the court of the innocent,
Will minister to each other
At the gates of righteousness,
Both in heaven
And on earth,
Offering torn cloth
Soaked in tears
To bind their wounds,
To bless the living,
And to console the lost. 

Today,
Yes, today,
The court of the captives
And the court of the innocent in heaven
Convene,
Arraying the charges
Before us,
And wait,
Still wait,
For us to answer. 

© 2023 Alden Solovy and ToBendLight  

This week we learn from our parsha: 

Pharaoh hardened his heart. Pharaoh was stubborn. 

Our parsha today is set up for us to like the Israelites and dislike Pharaoh. After all we want Pharaoh to release the Israelites. As I type this I want to scream and I want Hamas to release the hostages.  

We see Pharaoh’s stubbornness as negative. G-d apparently does too because in the later plagues, it is G-d who hardens Pharaoh’s heart. That makes many ask the question what happened to free will? In genesis  

What does it mean to be stubborn. The dictionary definition says:  

having or showing dogged determination not to change one’s attitude or position on something, especially in spite of good arguments or reasons to do so. 

“a stubborn refusal to learn from experience” 

 The word stubborn implies a negative trait. Someone’s inability to give in, to change his or her ways, rules, ideals, beliefs. Dogged determination is good. It is how I got through rabbinical school. It is what enables me to run a marathon. Persistence is good. 

As a leader, Pharaoh seems to do two things. He is interested in protecting his power. And he lacks an empathy for his people. Any of his people. When he turns around and goes back inside his palace, he does not seem to care about his people not having clean drinking water. As was pointed out in Torah Study this week, sadly. we can see echos of this in modern day leaders.  

There are many styles of leadership, and many qualities good leaders should possess.  

What qualities do good leaders possess: We could brainstorm that list:  

• Dynamic 
• Courage 
•  Knowledgable and smart 
• Life long learner 
•  Visionary 
•  Good listener 
•  Good Communicator  
• Lifelong learner 
•  Sense of humor 
•  Integrity 
•  Team player 
•  Accountable 
•  Respectful 
•  Solicits opinions 
•  Humble 
•  Sympathetic 
•  Empathetic and compassionate 
• Kind 
•  Honest 
• Authentic 
• Self-aware 
• Creative 
• Flexible 
• Accountable 
• Resilient 

Many of those characteristics are words you chose as your word last week to represent your year. (See last week’s post) They are also on the list from Vistage of leadership competencies.
But being stubborn is not on the list! 

https://www.vistage.com/research-center/personal-development/leadership-competencies/20230725-what-makes-a-great-leader/?ls=Google%20AdWords&lsd=DEPT_PMAX_Google_Performance%20Max_Prospecting_Member_NAMER_US_SQL_CPL_Test_pMax&utm_source=google&utm_campaign=acqmember&utm_medium=cpc&gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQiAhomtBhDgARIsABcaYylHlnemio4umzfecgLs_Lts_F8yQG80wPeaD80C2_iDTfp_-dQO5yQaAshKEALw_wcB 

One of the older Junior Girl Scout Handbooks had several leadership styles. Each of you gathered today may be one of them, or a combination of them. Each of the leaders we see in today’s parsha, Moses, Aaron, Pharaoh, G-d also may fit these patterns: 

Director: Gives very good direction and makes sure everyone does his or her job. Makes certain that rules are clear and that everyone is expected to follow them. 

Coach: Uses a style that provides both direction and supervision but encourages the involvement of everyone. Will explain the work that lies ahead, discuss decisions and answer questions. 

Supporter: Works with other members of the group to set goals and list steps to achieve the goals. Encourages everyone to make decisions and gives each member the help they need. 

Delegator: Gives everyone a share of the work. Lets group members make decisions and take on as much responsibility as they can handle. Is there to answer questions, but wants them to take as much responsibility for their actions as possible
(Previous definitions from the The Guide for Junior Girl Scout Leaders, copyright 1994, New York, New York 

Convener: Calls the group together, inspires, organizes 

But again, stubborn is not on the list.  

I believe I have a collaborative leadership style. I may have an opinion about what should be done but I try to bring people along with me. That’s why the decision today was made in conjunction with Robin and Gene for example. It’s why when there are halachic issues such as instrumentation on Shabbat on interfaith burials at Jewish cemeteries or even the use of Zoom, I write a teshuva, a responsa that I vet with other rabbis, at least three then I submit to the ritual committee for further discussion and opinions. That is one style of leadership. 

Friday night I read a part of a charming children’s book, Snow in Jerusalem. It is a PJ Library offering and it features a Jewish boy and a Muslim boy both of whom live in the Old City of Jerusalem. Both of them are feeding a cat. Both of them think that the cat is their own. One of the best parts of PJ Library is the supplementary material that comes with it. In addition to some material on treating animals well which is a Jewish value, and information about Jerusalem, Yirushaliym, it contains a useful page on helping children deal with conflict. Perhaps this book and these our children will be the ones to find solutions to peace. Both our traditions pray for it, hope for it, demand it.  

Later in the weekend I was studying the Song at the Sea with my Chai School students. I was reminded that while G-d is depicted as a G-d of war and G-d drowns the Egyptian chariots (and yes the horses), there is a midrash that teaches about the angels rejoicing and breaking out into song when the Israelites are finally safe. G-d isn’t pleased. With their rejoicing. “My creatures are drowning in the sea and you sing songs”. 

What is happening in Gaza is tragic. There will be another two generations that will live in fear and something even worse than Hamas may emerge. .” 

Sometimes I think there is no way that I can solve the crisis in the Middle East. I am just a small town rabbi. Then I think as a woman I do have the solution. So, here is my plea. It’s simple. Everybody. And I mean everybody. Put down your arms. Don’t be stubborn. Release the hostages. Now. Don’t be stubborn. Bring them home now. Don’t be stubborn. 

Heather ends many of her classes with the phase, “Make good choices.” Make good choices. Now. Make peace now. Work for peace. Now. Please. 

Any of you make New Year’s Resolutions? How’s that going for you on January 6th, almost one week into the new year? 

Today’s portion contains an unforgettable scene. Moses, shepharding his father-in-law’s flock of sheep, sees something odd. A bush that is burning but is not consumed. It is not burning up. Why is this? What is going on? He is curious and instead of backing away or running away, he draws closer and hears a voice calling, “Moses, Moses!” “Hineini, Here am I.” Whose calling? Who’s there? That voice continues to call. 

“And [God] said, “Do not come closer! Remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you stand is holy ground!” and continued, “I am the God of your father’s [house]—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.” 

Later: 

“Moses said to God, “When I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers’ [house] has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is [God’s] name?’ what shall I say to them?”  

And God said to Moses, “Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh,” continuing, “Thus shall you say to the Israelites, ‘Ehyeh sent me to you.’” 

Vayikra…and He called is language that is sprinkled throughout the Torah.  

What does it mean to hear the voice of G-d? We have different understandings of that. For the Psalmist it was a powerful voice able to shatter ceders of Lebanon. For Elijah, it was a still small voice. Can we even hear it at all today? What does it mean to be called. 

As I have written before, “When I first thought I wanted to become a rabbi, I tried to talk about it in the language of call. After all, I grew up in Grand Rapids and I had friends who felt “called”. At that stage, people closest to me thought perhaps it was a mental health issue. That I was hearing voices (I was not) and the Jewish community at that stage was not comfortable with this language, having ceded it to Christianity. Often times in theology that there is a pendulum that swings and now it is more acceptable to talk about the rabbinate this way. But calling is not limited to professional clergy.” 

Each of us is called to do something. To be something. Each of us can hear that call. There is something that is uniquely ours to do, some unique role we play. Figuring out what that call might be adds meaning to our lives.  

Teachers often describe their work as a calling. Doctors, nurses, first responders. But not just those. Rabbi Jeffry Salkin in his book Being God’s Partner that I describe as What Color is Your Parachute for Jews tells this story:  

“The boss of the moving crew was a delightful, crusty gentleman, a dead ringer for Willie Nelson. I had never met anyone so enthusiastic about his or her work, and I asked him the source of that enthusiasm.  

“‘Well, you see, I’m a religious man,’ he answered, ‘and my work is part of my religious mission.’  

“‘What do you mean?’ I asked.  

“‘Well, it’s like this. Moving is hard for most people. It’s a very vulnerable time for them. People are nervous about going to a new community, and about having strangers pack their most precious possessions. So, I think God wants me to treat my customers with love and to make them feel that I care about their things and their life. God wants me to help make their changes go smoothly. If I can be happy about it, maybe they can be, too’” (Jeffrey Salkin, Being God’s Partner). 

Frederick Buechner, of blessed memory,  said that “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”  

Our calling may be our work. It may be something as Buechner suggests we are passionate about whether that is paid work, our vocation or our avocation, those things that we do as our volunteer work. It maybe working on hunger and homelessness issues. It may be working with kids in Girl Scouts or mentoring. It may be literacy work. The possibilities are endless. Many of us in this group are retired. We might not want to be defined by our “work.”  

Yesterday we began a process of listening. It is holy work. It is wholy work.  

In my weighwatchers group, now WW,  we have been asked for the last several years to choose a word to represent our year. Last year my word was “Hineini. Here am I.” Just like Moses said in today’s portion. “I am here. I am still here.” This year I surprisingly chose a different word. 

It seems to me that this is setting an intention, a kavanah or the year. 

Kavanah is the Hebrew word for direction, intention, or purpose. It is often used in connection with prayer. I describe kavanah as the words behind the words as opposed to keva which is the fixed order or structure of the service. But it also is the intention when doing a ritual act. How do you intend your spirit, your neshama, when you light shabbat candles, for example. It is not supposed to be rote or mechanical.  

Abraham Joshua Heschel, whose birthday was Jan. 11, we will talk more about him next week, in his classic work God in Search of Man, explains that performing a mitzvah without proper kavanah is inadequate because while it might have a positive effect on the world, it leaves the doer of the mitzvah unaffected. The purpose of Jewish practice, he writes, is transformation of the soul. 

“A moral deed unwittingly done may be relevant to the world because of the aid it renders unto others. Yet a deed without devotion, for all its effects on the lives of others, will leave the life of the doer unaffected. The true goal for man is to be what he does.” 

He also said as quoted in Gates of Prayer: “Prayer cannot bring water to a parched field, nor mend a broken bridge, nor rebuild a ruined city, but prayer can water an arid soul, mend a broken heart and rebuild a weakened will.” 

So, what then is our intention for the year? Your personal intention for the year. What if we just choose one word, rather than making a new year’s resolution. There is a new book, One Word that will change your life. It recommends three steps to finding your unique word and living it out. That is a calling.  

Here is my summary: 

Step One: Look in. Find some quiet time. No phone. No television. No barking dog. This might be early in the morning before everyone else gets up or late at night or out on a walk by yourself. It is about preparing your heart. (We sing this verse) 

Ask yourself, what do I need, what is in my way, what needs to go. 

Step Teo, Look up 

Just like Moses, G-d has a place in this. What is G-d calling you to do.  Each of us, created in the image of the divine, with that divine spark has a unique place in this world, a unique thing that we can contribute. Part of the challenge of finding our word is slowing down enough to see the burning bush, to discover what our contribution might be. Moses’s one word might have been Hineini. I am here. Or it might have been Go!  

G-d too has a word. G-d reveals G-d’s name here. Eyehe asher Eyeye. The Hebrew is uncertain but something like I will be what I will be. I am what I am. I will be. What will you be? How will you incorporate G-d in your life? 

Finding your word is more than finding a good word, it’s a G-d word, just like Moses at the burning bush. Here’s the trick. I can’t tell you where or when you will receive it. Sometimes, most times? It comes as a surprise. You might be out for a walk. You might be going to sleep at night, or getting up in the morning. You might be journaling. You might be watching TV. You might discover a burning bush! It may feel like that when you find it.  

Step Three: Look Out 

Once you find, discover your word Then it is about living out your word. Suddenly you may see it everywhere. Tell your friends, your family, your co-workers what your word it. Put it up in places in your house to remind you. Put it on your computer. Make a One Word file. Soon you will see it everywhere and it will provide a focus, an intention. It may even change your life.  

Last night we began to brainstorm our words: 

Family, independence, heal, kindness, empathy, compassion, joy, resilience 

Anyone know immediately what your word might be? 

We added peace, smile, grow, thrive, pay attention, determination, respect, listen, learn, responsibility. (We may have forgotten one or two! Feel free to tell me in the comments your word.) 

May this be year of hearing, of focus, of kavanah, of growth.  

Last week I got the call I knew would come but was still unprepared. Alyn Rovin, now of blessed memory died. He was so instrumental in my life that I quickly rescheduled my own medical procedure, covered the staffing of the blood drive and found flights that would work to Florida. I don’t have the luxury to do this often but as I told people who Alyn was every single person said, “yes, you have to go.”  I wasn’t even “doing the funeral” I was just going to lend support to his kids, also longtime friends. As it turned out, they hoped I would do a eulogy. What follows is essentially what I said:

You’ve  heard some of the biographical bullet points but let me fill in some of the stories  I’m not here as a rabbi today, but merely as an almost life long friend.  

Quite simply, Alyn was a mensch. He was a class act.  

He was a sea scout, and that motto of “Be Prepared” and leave a place better than you found it, were ideals he lived by.  

When my husband and I were about to be married, we went to tell Alyn and Nancy the good news. We weren’t sure how they would respond. Nancy was digging in the upper garden. She wiped off her muddy hands and said, “Alyn, go get the champagne.”. I tell this story every wedding talk I do because it teaches us that you should always be prepared. Always have a bottle of bubbly, alcoholic or not, to toast the big moments or the little moments, day by day by day. They were prepared. Always prepared. And yes, I have a bottle on ice in Illinois, just waiting for the right moment.  

Another example of his being prepared. The year before we got married, we wanted to host a Shabbat dinner before Thanksgiving, a Friendgiving before it was even called that. I called Alyn in advance to carve the turkey. He came prepared, with his own knives. I think my soon to be husband was a little chagrinned and a little crestfallen.A fter all, he could carve a turkey. But Alyn came prepared.  

Alyn and Nancy really wanted to make the world a better place. They were at the March on Washington and heard King give his famous  “I have a dream speech.” Somehow, it seems beshert that we are here today as we approach both Martin Luther King, junior’s and Abraham Joshua Heschel’s birthdays. It was Heschel that said his feet were praying when he marched with King.  That was certainly true of Alyn. Wherever he went, his feet were praying. And he went lots of places. Wherever he went he brought his respect, his desire to learn, and his unique sense of humor. They were in the first group of Peace Corp volunteers, making life long friends in Malaysia. They always marked John F. Kennedy’s yahrzeit. And there were seemingly little ways that they made the world a better place. Like taking care of the first solar ner tamid, the eternal light, anywhere in the country. Alyn used his electrical engineering background to craft something so unquie that had been a vision of Rabbi Everett Gendler, also of blessed memory, who would remind people that the sun is the original ner tamid. It should never go out. Alyn was the president of Temple Emanuel of the Merrimack Valley. He and Everett had a special bond as rabbi and president. They would have breakfast every Friday and that relationship and those discussions were important to both of them. I learned much about the roles of the rabbi and the-president by listening to Alyn. I learned much about business too. He had much to teach, much to model and much to mentor. Especially for women under his tutelage. Whether that was physics to the girls in Maylasia or women on his staff at Polaroid Or me. (And who else could you call in the middle of dinner at the Waldorf Astoria,  if the restaurant had a tip line for the maitre de, the sommelier and the waiter? What was I supposed to do with that on a business trip to New York?I figured only Alyn would know! And of course, he did. 

Most Sundays after Nancy and I would finish teaching religious school, the staff would go out to eat. We loved trying new restaurants and we were especially fond of Amici in Billerica where we were first introduced to tiramisu and Yankee Cajun where Alyn ordered Gerstermeiner to go with the spicy food. And of course, there were many lovely meals in that screened in porch in Carlisle of Malaysian hot pots and swimming in the pool.  

Entertaining was something they did seemingly with ease. Whether it was a Shabbat dinner, a pool party, or seders with lots of singing, rhythm instruments and of course gathering around the grand piano to sing every song from Fiddler. And I remember fondly clarinet and piano klezmer duets. Music was so integral—classic. Klezmer, Handels messiah or Peter Paul and Mary. How many Peter Paul and Mary concerts did we go to together? I can imagine that those duets are continuing. If Alyn can find his clarinet.  

Lifecycle events, Kailah’s Bat Mitzvah, my husband’s and my wedding where Alyn was a ketubah signer that still  hangs over our bed. Nancy famously siad that morning, the irst day of spring, that the snowflakes were just daisy petals from heaven. Maybe that will be true tomorrow morning too as i head into more snow in Chicagoland. Sarah’s naming. Kailah and Marc’s wedding and dancing to lots of Sinatra. But there was one I didn’t attend and that one was very special. Olivia’s bat mitzvah where the requirement in this very congregation aa explained to me was to chant the Torah as well as do the aliyah blessing. He didn’t want to disappoint Olivia and so he mastered that skill sitting at my dining room table Oh, how proud he was of you. And I was so proud of him. My ordination. There were few who thought I could become a rabbi. Alyn was quite sure I could. He was prepared, present and invested for all of those. 

At some point they moved to Acton and I did a house dedication nailing up the mezuzah. I still use that outline. But really, they wanted to be close to the grandkids. So they sold the place in the keys and moved here. They loved picnics and going to all of your sporting events soccer, swim meets, track. No call was complete without a rundown of what the grandchildren were doing. He was interested in everything and everyone. 

That included me. In the last couple of years, I received a diagnosis of multiple myeloma, one of the many issues that plagued Alyn, too. I knew he was on dialysis and had a sense of how draining that can be. But I somehow had missed this piece. He would call while he was on dialysis and I would drive to or from treatments. I think dialysis was boring and maybe lonely. We would swap treatment plans and side effects. He was amazing and up on all the research.  

I got through rabbinical school on musical theater lyrics. One that seems particularly apt is one from Les Mis. Alyn and Nancy attended my daughter’s high school production of Les Mis and were amazed that there was a student conductor. These words seem to appropriate for today. 

There’s a grief that can’t be spoken
There’s a pain goes on and on
Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone 

Here they talked of revolution
Here it was they lit the flame
Here they sang about tomorrow
And tomorrow never came 

From the table in the corner
They could see a world reborn
And they rose with voices ringing
And I can hear them now! 

The very words that they had sung
Became their last communion
On this lonely barricade
At dawn 

Oh my friends, my friends forgive me
That I live and you are gone
There’s a grief that can’t be spoken
There’s a pain goes on and on 

Phantom faces at the window
Phantom shadows on the floor
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will meet no more
Lyrics by Alain Boublil

 He really cared about everyone. He was always prepared. That light he guarded will never go out. He was a mensch. The world is a better place because he was here. But we are not done yet. There is a line from Pirke Avot, “Ours is not to finish the task. Neither are we free to ignore it.” Alyn, and Nancy, set the bar high, accomplished much but did not finish the task. Our task then is to continue to make the world a better place.  
There are many many stories. Make sure you tell them to Fern, to Josh and Peggy, Olivia and Asher, Kailah and Marc, Maddox and Mason. That’s how we keep the memory of Alyn alive.

Many times there emerges a person, or in this care several people who are the primary caregivers. I heard the story first from Kailah in her initial call and later at dinner last ngiht. The pulminologistt said that people don’t generally live for five years on dialysis. I believe that the rabbis of the Talmud had it right, that the body is a finely balanced network . But what held him together was the love and the support from all of you. He lived for his family. He loved his family, And you so clearly loved him, So I offer you this:

A Prayer for the Caregiver 

Unknown and often unnoticed, you are a hero nonetheless
For your love and sacrifice is God at his best.
You walk by faith in the darkness of the great unknown.
Your courage, even in weakness gives life to your beloved.
You hold shaking hands and provide the ultimate care:
Your presence, the knowing, that you are simply there.
You rise to face the giant of disease and despair.
It is your finest hour, though you may be unaware.
You are resilient, amazing, and beauty unexcelled,
You are the caregiver and you have done well! 

Bruce McIntyre