The Sacredness of Tears

 

When I was 9 years old, my father had to go to the hospital to repair a hernia. These days a hernia repair is an outpatient procedure followed by a few days of bedrest.  In my father’s day a hernia repair was treated quite differently.  My father was in the hospital for an entire week, was out of work for a month, and had to be careful moving about for an entire year! That was the year he could not go ice skating with me at the local park, he couldn’t lift any of his three children up, he couldn’t throw a football with me in the back yard. But the thing I remember most, that startled me the most, was the report I heard from my Aunt Bea, his sister, after she visited him in the hospital. I overheard her tell my mother that when she entered his hospital room, she found my father crying. My father crying? My father doesn’t cry, I thought to myself. I cry, but I’m a kid. My father is a big strong man, a veteran of World War ll. My father took part in the US army campaigns in Africa, in Sicily, in Italy, in Southern France and in Central Europe. How can my father be crying?  

 

Looking back now I find it interesting that even by age 9, I had been socialized to think that a man crying was a sign of weakness and a reason for shame. As we know, that was a strong and firm belief held by most Americans to the extent that when Senator Edmund Muskie shed some tears in public it derailed his 1972 presidential bid.  

Yet the Bible records many stories in which men cry. In the climax to the story of Joseph which we read this week, Joseph and his brothers fall into each other’s arms and cry when finally reconciled in Egypt. Next week we will read that Jacob “cried mightily” when he was re-united with Joseph in Egypt. These are all tears of joy. Earlier in the Bible Jacob and Esau cry when they met after a 20-year estrangement. These are tears of relief. David and Jonathan cry when they part. These are tears of sadness, as they know not when, and if, they will see one another again.  David cries when his son Absalom dies. These are tears of grief. The Psalms are replete with accounts of men crying at times of turmoil, desolation, misery or fear.  “Weary am I with groaning and weeping,” writes the author of Psalm 6, “Nightly my pillow is soaked with tears.” These are the tears of someone in pain. Hezekiah, the King of Southern Israel, weeps bitterly when he is told by the prophet Isaiah that he is about to die. His are tears of despair. Mordechai cries when he hears the decree of King Ahasuerus. These are tears of supplication. There are many other instances of grown men crying in the Bible. Clearly our Holy Scriptures do not view crying as a sign of weakness or something to be ashamed of.  

 

Our rabbis teach that Moses, our greatest teacher, our most courageous leader, a man of towering strength, wrote the final lines of the Torah not in ink, but with his own tears.  These final verses were the verses that recorded Moses’ own death. Rashi teaches us that G-d would dictate the Torah to Moses and he would repeat each word before writing it down in ink. But when it came to recording his own death, G-d dictated and Moses wrote with his own tears, unable to repeat the words. 

 

Why did Moses cry? Were these tears of anguish over his being denied by G-d entrance into the Promised Land? Were they tears of anxiety over what would happen to his people once he was gone? Were they tears of impotence over having to leave this world before his task was complete? Tears of happiness that his mission on earth was now complete? The rabbis don’t say.  

 

The Kotzker Rebbe teaches that our tears are desirable. Why? He explains that a child cries because the child believes that their mother or father will hear their cry. When we adults cry it is a sign that we believe that someone will hear us.  That “someone” is G-d, who loves us like a parent. The Kotzker Rebbe teaches that when someone turns to G-d with eyes full of tears, their prayers fly straight to Heaven and are heard by the Holy Blessed One. The Gates of Tears, says the Kotzker, are never closed.  

 

We should never be ashamed to cry. Tears are not a sign of weakness but wordless messengers that communicate a wide range of human emotions, whether anger, grief, contrition, or love.  We should not try to cover up what we are feeling, or judge others who are expressing their emotions. Our tradition teaches that tears are simply part of being human. Our tradition teaches that there is a sacredness, purity and holiness to our tears.   Shabbat Shalom 

Celebrating our Diversity

 

Levitt Home in Naperville

It seemed to come earlier this year. The weekend before Thanksgiving my neighbors began to put up their Christmas decorations. “Just taking advantage of the warm weather,” my next-door neighbor Steve said to me when I complimented the lights he and his son were stringing on the eaves of their roof. It was as if he felt he had to apologize for decking out his home so early! I thought to myself that possibly putting up the decorations early had  more to with the bleakness of the year and the desire to have something to celebrate than with the weather. No doubt about it. We are all eager to bring some light into this dark period  in  our lives, a tough and bruising year which has caused unimaginable pain and desolation in our country and all over the world.   

 As we all know Chanukah comes during the time of year when many of our friends, neighbors, and colleagues, are celebrating Christmas. It is a time when we American Jews most feel our sense of “otherness” from the majority culture. Everybody is doing one thing, and we are doing something else. Many of us have family members who celebrate Christmas as well.  We cannot avoid it, nor should we want to. Rather, we should see the celebrations of Christmas and Chanukah as expressions of the diversity that is one of our country’s greatest strengths. And we should take some pride in the knowledge that, without the Jewish people, there WOULD be no Christmas. At the same time, we should keep in mind that for us, Chanukah is a relatively minor holiday on our liturgical calendar despite being celebrated around Christmas, a major holiday for Christians.

Still, living as a Jew in a society that is flooded with the Christmas spirit can be challenging at times. Rabbi Reuven Taff tells about the time he and his wife Judy took their three-year-old son, Avi, to the mall one Friday afternoon in December. As they were sitting on a bench in the mall eating ice cream, Rabbi Taff noticed that Avi was fascinated by the group of children lined up to sit on Santa’s lap.

Rabbi Taff and his wife wondered whether their son would say something about wanting to speak to Santa. They pictured themselves dragging Avi out of the mall as he protested that he, too, wanted to visit with Santa. But, when it was time to go, Avi left with them quietly. As they were exiting the mall, Avi turned to his mother and said, “Ima, I’ll be right back.” He took off toward Santa, and as his mother ran after him, she heard him yell at the top of his lungs, “Santa, Santa”. Everyone in the line stopped to look. Then Avi yelled, “Shabbat Shalom, Santa”.

Shabbat Shalom and Chanukah Sameach!

 

 

Peter Paul Rubens
The Reconciliation
of Jacob and Esau

Last week we read in the Torah about Jacob fleeing from his home in Canaan in fear of his life. He had stolen his brother Esau’s blessing and Esau had vowed to kill Jacob once their father died. Jacob camps for a night on his way to Haran and has a dream of angels ascending and descending a ladder. In the dream G-d gives Jacob a blessing and promises to protect him in his journey and to bring him back to the land of Canaan.

Following this dream, Jacob makes a vow. He says, “If G-d remains with me, if He protects me on this journey I am making, and gives me bread to eat and clothing to wear, and if I return safe to my father’s house – Adonai will be my G-d.” This is an interesting vow because of what Jacob did not say. We might have expected him to vow, after experiencing such a vivid dream and divine promise: “Surely G-d will remain with me; surely G-d will protect me on my journey; surely G-d will give me bread to eat; surely I will return safe to my father’s house…..”

Why does Jacob use the word, “if” instead of “surely”? Because Jacob is not sure. He is only just starting out on a journey. He is not entirely sure that the G-d of his grandfather and grandmother, Abraham and Sarah, the G-d of his father and mother, Isaac and Rebecca, can fulfill his promise to him. Perhaps he is not sure that the G-d who is so powerful in the Land of Canaan can be equally powerful hundreds of miles away, in another country, whose people worship other gods. So Jacob qualifies this vow with the word “if”. As Jacob plunges into the unknown future, he has hope, but not certainty, that he will be able to meet the challenges ahead.

Throughout our history, we Jews, like Jacob, have faced crisis after crisis with the hope, but without a guarantee, that we would successfully meet the many challenges to our survival. This hope is symbolized by the lighting of the Chanukah candles, which begins next Thursday night. You know the story well. When the Maccabees were ready to rededicate the Temple in Jerusalem that had been defiled by the Syrian Greeks, they found only one vial of pure oil, an amount that would last but one night. They lit that oil, and it lasted for eight nights. One might well ask, “Why, then, do we celebrate Chanukah for eight nights?” The miracle, after all, was only for seven nights. The one vial of oil would certainly burn for one night. That first night was not a miracle!

The miracle of Chanukah lies not only in the fact that one days’ worth of oil lasted for eight days. The miracle of Chanukah also lies in the willingness of those who lit the menorah to take the first step to rededicating the Temple without any assurance that the lamp would continue to burn for eight days.  They had an opportunity and seized it without knowing how, or whether, they could keep the darkness out until new, pure oil could be found. We see this same spirit of hope expressed in Jacob’s journey to a foreign land; we see it expressed in millions of Jews throughout history who set down new roots in the lands which form our Diaspora; we see it expressed in the halutzim, the pioneers of modern Israel who were determined to found a new state in an ancient land. All took a step into the future not knowing how it would end but determined to begin nonetheless -- All of these actions based on hope alone.

 There are times in our own lives we do not start something because we are not sure where it will lead us. We don’t pick up a musical instrument because we cannot be assured of mastering it. We don’t embark on Jewish studies because we don’t believe we will become scholars. We convince ourselves that since success is far from assured, there is no sense in even making an effort.

As we begin our celebration next Thursday, let us remember that the Chanukah lights teach us to trust in our beginnings, to seize the opportunities that the moment presents, to begin despite the fact that we have no guarantee we will reach the goal we set out for. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, teaches us that there is a difference between optimism and hope. Jews, he says, are not optimists, but we are a people with hope. “Optimism is the belief that things will turn out for the better,” he says. “Hope” is the belief that if we work toward something, we can make things better.” As Jacob sets out for Haran, he is not optimistic. Rather, he hopes that through his intelligence, hard work, and help from G-d, he would succeed. It is a model for us all.

Shabbat Shalom

 

 

 

Sculpture of Leah by Michelangelo

Before Generation Z, before the Millennials, before Generation X, there were the Baby Boomers. My generation and the generation of many of you... The “Baby Boomers” were also dubbed “The Me Generation” because of our perceived unhealthy focus on fulfilling our own needs. The American historian and   social critic Christopher Lasch called the youth movement of my day “The Culture of Narcissism”. It was characterized, he wrote, by a fear of commitment to both relationships and religious institutions, a celebration of youth, a dread of ageing, and a worship of fame and celebrity. The “Me Generation”, according to Lasch and other commentators, had turned away from the social reform movements of the 1960s to focus inward, on the gratification of the self, the self-fulfillment of the individual. Yet, the self-improvement movements of the 1970’s like  EST, Bioenergetics, Gestalt therapy and others , left people feeling as empty and dissatisfied as ever. Perhaps Mick Jagger best summed up the frustration of the youth movement of the sixties and seventies when he wrote in 1979, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”.

That would be a fitting epitaph to the life of Leah, about whom we read in this week’s parasha. You know the story.  Jacob flees to Haran where he resides in the home of his uncle, Lavan. Lavan has two daughters. Rachel, the younger daughter is described as “beautiful” and “comely”. Leah the older daughter is described as having “weak eyes”. We don’t know exactly what that phrase means. I believe it is a euphemism for some kind of unbecoming feature. Jacob falls in love with Rachel and works seven years for her father Lavan in order to marry her. On the wedding night, Lavan substitutes Leah for Rachel. In the morning, when Jacob discovers the ruse, he confronts Lavan. Lavan explains that it is the custom of the place to marry off the older daughter before the younger. The following week Jacob marries his beloved Rachel.

Now Jacob has two wives – Rachel, who he always wanted to marry, and Leah, who he was tricked into marrying. The Torah tells us that Jacob loved Rachel but “despised” Leah. That doesn’t seem quite fair. Leah had no role in deceiving Jacob into the betrothal. She was as much a victim of her father, Lavan, as Jacob. Nevertheless, it appears that Jacob held this against her and hated her for it. Yet, the one thing Leah wanted from the time of the marriage was for Jacob to love her. One way of cementing a relationship is to have children together. Leah conceived and gave birth to Jacob’s first son. In Biblical times, every man hoped his wife give him a son, and Leah desired more than anything in the world that the birth of this son would change Jacob’s feelings about her. She expressed this desire by naming the son Reuven, which means, “Now my husband will love me.” But Jacob did not love Leah any more after she gave birth to a son than he had before. Leah had a second son, and named him Shimon, which means, “G-d heard that I am despised so G-d gave me another son.” The second son did not get Jacob to love Leah any more than the first! They say that “three’s a charm” and Leah gave Jacob yet another son. She called him “Levi” saying, “Surely my husband will become attached to me now.”

It didn’t happen.

The names that Leah gives her three sons reflect the anguish she felt over not getting what she wanted – the love and affection of her husband. The names of her sons up to that time reveal Leah’s ongoing concern on what she lacks in her life. In naming her fourth son “Yehudah”, we see a change in Leah’s outlook. For “Yehudah” means, “This time I will praise G-d”.

No, you can’t always get what you want: But, as Mick Jagger concludes, “If you try sometimes/ you just might find/ you get what you need”. For the first time we see Leah focusing on the blessings that she herself has in life. Leah has grown from being obsessed with what she lacks to being genuinely grateful for what she has. Leah searches and searches, and ultimately finds what she needs.

And so may we all.

Shabbat Shalom

The "Self Made Man" ?

 

One of the most enduring myths of our country is that of the “self-made man”. Benjamin Franklin has been described as “the original self-made man”. In his autobiography, Franklin describes the journey he made from being the son of a candle maker to re-invent himself, through the virtues of “industry, economy and perseverance” as a scientist,  a diplomat and a writer. Frederick Douglass, the leader of the abolitionist movement in Massachusetts and a writer, orator and statesman himself, described the “self-made man” in these words, “One cannot be "made" by the help of a father, teacher, mentor, etc. ..., but must rise by one's own grit, determination, discipline, and opportunism.”

Nothing can be further from the Jewish tradition than the idea of the “self-made man”. The Torah itself cautions us against saying “My power and the strength of my hands have produced this wealth for me." The point is illustrated in a commentary on the first verse in our parasha for this week – “These are the stories of Isaac the son of Abraham, Abraham was the father of Isaac.”

The commentators are struck by this verse. If Isaac is the son of Abraham, doesn’t it follow that Abraham is the father of Isaac? Why use the precious words of the Torah to state the obvious?

There are  multiple  answers to this question, but I want to highlight one suggested by Rabbi Yechiel Singer, z’l, a Chassidic Rebbe from the Aleksandro dynasty that originated in Poland. Describing Isaac as “the son of Abraham” means that Isaac never forgot his father. He always thought of himself as the son of that great man, and all that he achieved in his life was the result of his good fortune of having two holy people, Abraham and Sarah, as his parents. Without the moral examples that they provided, without the education that they gave him, he understood that he would be nothing. Everything he achieved in life was because of them. The verse also describes Abraham as the father of Isaac. This conveys the idea that despite all that Abraham had done in the service of G-d, his most important contribution to the world was he and Sarah had raised a child who was considerate, decent, proper and respectful. This, writes Rabbi Yechiel Singer, is the way of holy people. They don’t see themselves as worthy in their own eyes, but give all of the credit to their parents who bequeathed  so much to them.  They do not see themselves as being “self-made” but instead understand they are beholden to the gifts bestowed upon them by their families. Conversely, our chief virtue is not the wealth we accumulate, or the power we exercise, or the books that we write or the  successes  we achieve. The measure of a life well lived is the moral qualities we pass on to the next generation.

This Thanksgiving most of us will not be able to celebrate with our parents, our grandparents, our siblings,  our adult children and our grandchildren,  our nieces and our nephews.  It will be impossible not to think of them, not to miss them and long for their company. Let us therefore give thanks to all those who came before us, for giving us so much, for helping to make us who we are today. And let us also  give thanks to the next generation as well, and may their lives reflect the values, the traditions and  the  virtues that we have passed on to  them. They are our most precious gifts to the world.  Have a very Happy Thanksgiving filled with health, peace, warm memories and joy.

Shabbat Shalom

Veterans Day Sermon

 

In 1688 a Swiss physician named James Hofer coined the term “nostalgia” from the Greek “nostos” meaning “homecoming” and “algos” meaning “pain”. The syndrome was characterized by sadness and a persistent longing for a person, an object or a place. Hofer called nostalgia a “disease”. It was thought to be particularly widespread among soldiers. Nostalgia was seen as especially threatening to the functioning of armies, as it was thought to sap the will to fight in those who suffered from it.   We know from historical records that the Russian army experienced an outbreak of nostalgia on its way to Germany in 1733. In order to “flatten the curve” (as we say) of this outbreak, the General in charge threatened to bury alive those who came down with the disease. After following through with his threat a couple of times, the outbreak was brought under control.   Military history throughout centuries records a range of techniques to deal with “nostalgia” in it fighting forces.

I wonder if Abraham and Sarah ever experienced nostalgia? Did they ever look back and long for what they left behind? G-d commanded Abraham and Sarah to leave the land of their birth and travel to the Land of Canaan. There, G-d promised that their descendants, the Jewish people, would inherit the land. There, their descendants would grow into a mighty people and bring the knowledge of the One True G-d to all of the nations of the world. In this week’s parasha we find Rivka, too, making the decision to leave her family and travel to the land of Canaan with the servant of Abraham to be a wife to Abraham’s son, Isaac. Did Rivkah experience nostalgia? Abraham was already 75 years old when he left his parents; Rivka was but a young teen when she made the decision to leave her home with Abraham’s servant for a distant new land, a new life. Could you imagine how scary that would be, to travel to a place unknown, with Abraham’s servant, a man you had just met, to marry a man, Isaac, who you did not know -- especially at such a  young  age?

As we observe Veterans Day, we are keenly aware of the emotional and psychological challenges faced by the brave citizens who leave home to heed the call for service. Rabbi Yanina Creditor, a chaplain in the United States Navy is one such citizen. Rabbi Creditor volunteered to serve in the military and to serve her country. In the military, she reminds us, you go where you are sent. Setting out for an unknown outpost, with the likelihood of facing danger in a foreign land, can be a daunting, lonely and scary process, she says. She identifies with Abraham and Rivka, who also left their families to serve a higher cause.  Their families back home naturally remained extremely important. When Abraham decides to find a wife for Isaac, he reaches back to his family in Mesopotamia. When Rivka fears for her son, Yaakov’s, life, she sends him back to her family to keep him safe. So, too, in the military, says Rabbi Creditor, your family and community back home remains an enormous source of psychological grounding, strength and support from which to draw.

Rabbi Creditor says that in the military, you both take your family with you and you build new relationships, new families so to speak, wherever you go. Even as you build new support systems, it is important for those serving in the armed forces to know that they remain a part of the family back home. Like Abraham and Rivka, having that family, that connection, those affirming bonds, reminds the soldier that they are not alone, no matter how far away they may be.

That brings us to two projects that we at CBS are undertaking to help our troops and veterans stay connected to home. Lisa Olhausen is heading up a local effort to send Chanukah greetings to our Jewish troops. Last year the national organization, The Jewish Soldiers Project, sent over 3000 cards from more than 25 states to Jewish soldiers at home and overseas. You can either stop by the synagogue to pick up some cards that have been donated for this purpose, send your own store-bought card or create your own card. It is a great project for entire families -- particularly for kids and teens.

Our knitzvah team, led by CBS member Lisa Anderson, is supporting Warm up America’s Veterans Blanket Project.  Those who wish to participate can knit or crochet a 7 inch by 9 inch rectangle in red, white, or blue yarn. Lisa will collect all of our sections at the end of November and mail them together to “Warm Up America” where they will be combined into blankets to be delivered to veteran’s hospitals. The Knitzvah group meets online every other week. You can learn more about both these projects by clicking on our weekly Connections Update that comes on Wednesdays.

Let me close this sermon with a prayer.

God, please let every veteran of our nation’s armed forces feel truly valued and honored by the recognition, attention and appreciation from their fellow citizens. Let no one feel left behind, forgotten or neglected. Let every man and woman, young or old, feel the profound, unconditional and enduring gratitude of our nation and all its citizens.

Adonai our G-d, watch over those men and women who in their military service have sacrificed time, safety and comfort, who have put their lives at risk and their ambitions on hold, who have left loved ones behind, in order to assure the peace and safety of our nation, of family and friends and others they’ve never even known. Please reward them a hundredfold for all their sacrifice and service. Bless them far beyond all their expectations. Reward them richly for all they have given.”

And let us say, AMEN.

Photo by Sheri Hooley on Unsplash

 

 

Falling in Love

 

John M. Gottman is an American Psychologist renowned worldwide for his extensive research on marriage. He has spent over forty years developing measurements to predict who would become divorced and who would stay married.  When I was still a practicing couple’s therapist, I took a seminar with him on assessment of couples who present for marital counseling. One question in evaluating a couple’s potential to overcome difficulties in their relationship was to ask them, “What were the qualities that attracted you to your spouse when you chose one another?” If the couple got all dewy eyed as they recounted their first meetings, the therapist knew that there were still some sparks of love left for the relationship to rebuild upon. If, on the other hand, the couple glared at each other in stony silence, or the couple could not remember anything positive about their relationship, the therapist knew this was going to be a difficult couple to help.

The sages ask the same question about the relationship between Abraham and G-d. Why did G-d choose Abraham? What qualities did Abraham have that made G-d “fall in love with him” as it were? Curiously, last week’s parasha, where G-d tells Abraham He will make him a great nation, is silent on the matter. The Torah tells us why G-d chose Noah out of all the humans on the earth to be saved. Noah was righteous in his generation. But when G-d chooses Abraham, the text does not describe him as righteous, it does not tell us that he “fears G-d”, the text says nothing to praise him.

The Maharal of Prague was perplexed as well by this absence of a reason for choosing Abraham. The Maharal, also known as Rabbi Judah Loew ben Bezalel, was a great scholar who lived in the 16^th century. On our congregational trip to Central Europe two years ago, we saw the famous statue of the Maharal of Prague outside of city hall. We also visited his grave in the Old Jewish Cemetery.  He concludes that if G-d chose Abraham and his descendants for a specific quality, then if this quality should somehow disappear from the Jewish people in the future, G-d would feel justified in rescinding His choice, and leaving the Jewish people. To prove his point, he quotes Pirke Avot, “All love that depends on a specific quality, when that quality disappears, so does the love. But when love does not depend on a specific quality, when that quality disappears, the love endures.” Since G-d’s love for Abraham and his descendants did not depend on a specific quality, this love would endure even if Abraham’s descendants should sin. A sort of insurance policy in the event we, the Jewish people, should anger G-d. The bond was unbreakable. There could be no divorce!

Recently our Thursday morning study group heard a lecture by Rabbi Meir Soloveitchic, an American Orthodox rabbi who also addresses this issue. He maintains that the key to understanding why G-d chose Abraham is found in this week’s parasha. The passage he refers to comes as G-d is contemplating whether to share with Abraham His decision to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah.   The Torah says, “For I love him, for I know he will instruct his children and his household after him to keep My way by doing what is just and right…”

Let’s analyze that verse.  First, the verse says that Abraham would teach his children and household “after him”. This means that Abraham did not say one thing and do another. He was a model that  his children and grandchildren could look up to. They could and learn by watching his behavior how a Jewish person should act. Abraham observed Shabbat and holidays, said kiddush on Friday night, served on committees in his synagogue, gave money to Jewish causes and engaged in adult education.  Secondly, G-d loved Abraham because Abraham would do what is “just and right”. Abraham would do what was “just” by involving himself in issues of social justice. He would not turn a blind eye to prejudice and oppression in the society in which he lived. He was actively engaged in the issues of his time. But he would also do what was “right”. He would educate his children and household in the right way to live a Jewish life. .  He sent his children to Hebrew school, enrolled them in a Jewish summer camp, encouraged them to be continue with their Jewish education after their bar and bat mitzvahs.  Finally, Abraham would “keep the way of G-d”. Abraham’s Judaism consisted of more than an ethnic identity. It consisted of more than ritual observance, more than speaking Hebrew, more than a love of Israel, more than intellectual knowledge, more than standing up to injustice. Abraham’s life had a spiritual dimension as well.

Each one of us should strive to make ourselves worthy of being chosen by G-d by following Abraham’s example of integrity, responsibility and love of G-d.

[Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash]

Shabbat Shalom

 

 

 

In Praise of Grandparents

 

The ideal of the blessed person in the Bible is to live long enough to see one’s grandchildren. For example, Psalm 128 concludes with the following blessing:

“May G-d bless you from Zion/May you share the prosperity of Jerusalem all the days of your life/ and live to see your children’s children.”

But unlike the obligations that a parent has to a child, or the obligations that a child has to a parent, there is little within the traditional texts about the obligations of a grandparent to a grandchild. One exception is a text in the Talmud (Kiddushin 30a) that cites the example of a grandfather who taught his grandchild Torah, Mishnah, Talmud, Halacha and Aggadah. The rabbis of the Talmud ask, “Is being so involved in one’s grandchild’s Jewish education the exception or the rule?” It is the rule, they conclude, citing the verse in Deuteronomy (4:9) that one should teach the Torah “to your sons and to the sons of your sons”. The discussion proceeds to two examples of Rabbis who were involved in their grandchildren’s education. One rabbi would not eat breakfast until he had read to his grandchild and taught him an additional verse of scripture. Another rabbi would not eat breakfast until he had brought his grandchild to the study hall. The Talmud concludes this discussion by declaring, “Teaching the Torah to one’s grandchild is tantamount to receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai”. High praise indeed. 

In our time, few grandparents are able to study Torah every day with their grandchildren. Yet, as Jack Wertheimer, a professor of Jewish History at the Jewish Theological Seminary writes, grandparents continue to be an important influence on their grandchildren’s attachment to Judaism. Studies show that the relationship that a child has to his or her grandparent is often more positive than that which they have with their parents. Social media attests to the outsized influence grandparents can have on their grandchildren. As one Facebook post noted upon the death of a grandfather, “My Grandpa meant the world to me, as did our entire family to him. My love of Israel, Judaism and family all came from him.” Wertheimer writes that as a member of the admissions committee at the Seminary Rabbinic School, he has been “repeatedly struck by the number of applicants citing grandparental influence in their eventual decision to become actively committed members of the Jewish clergy.”

Wertheimer notes two other studies. The first, a survey of Birthright alumni concluded that, “a connection to Jewish grandparents is an important predictor of a wide variety of positive Jewish attitudes and practices in later years.” A second study of college students found that “those whose grandparents accompanied them to the synagogue and engage in other Jewish activities  are likeliest to feel strong attachments to Israel and the Jewish people.” Finally, a recent study, “Families and Faith” concludes that for many children, grandparents are the de facto moral and religious models and teachers in lieu of parents who are too exhausted or too busy on weekends to go to church or temple.”

Not all of us live close enough to our own grandchildren to drive them to religious school or attend synagogue with them on weekends. And not all adult children welcome the involvement of their parents in their children’s religious life. Adult children do not always share their parent’s commitment to Jewish involvement and practice. In these kinds of situations  one needs  to tread very  gently  and figure out ways to reach for the hearts and souls of the grandchildren. One also must be prepared to accept that inclusion in their religious upbringing might be out of reach altogether.   Involvement might occur through negotiated and carefully calibrated Jewish observance –   sporadic Shabbat dinners, an occasional synagogue visit, possibly a visit to a Holocaust museum, minimal  instruction in Jewish perspectives. Synagogues like our own can also help forge a Jewish bond between grandchildren and grandparents by sponsoring more opportunities like tonight, which brings together grandparents and grandchildren. We certainly welcome your ideas for programs in the future!

I would like to close with a beautiful poem from an anonymous author that  clearly  captures the relationship between grandparents and their grandchildren.

Child of my child, heart of my heart/ Your smile bridges the years between us/ I am young again discovering the world through your eyes/ You have the time to listen and I have the time to spend/ Delighted to gaze at familiar loved features made new in you again/ Through you I see the future, through me you see the past/ In the present we’ll love one another/ As long as these moments last.

Photo by Ekaterina Shakharova on Unsplash

Shabbat Shalom

 

 

 

In our Torah reading for this week Moses instructs the Israelites to set up stone pillars in the Land of Canaan after they cross the Jordan River. The stone pillars are to be coated with plaster, and the words of the Torah are to be written on them. They are also to set up an altar, made of uncut stone, upon which they will offer sacrifices in celebration of the covenant and gratitude upon their having reached the Promised Land. Later, in the Book of Joshua, the Israelites, under Joshua’s leadership, fulfill this commandment by setting up pillars and an altar on Mount Ebal.

Few material remains dated from the time of the Exodus have been uncovered.  In the 1980s, Israeli archeologist Adam Zertel excavated a site on Mt. Ebal. He discovered a large altar made of unhewn stone dating to the time of Joshua. Charred animal bones were found at the site, along with Iron Age l pottery. Could this be the altar the Bible speaks about? This archeologist   claimed that it was, indeed, the altar that Joshua built, but the issue has since continued to be hotly debated by researchers and scholars.

He did not find any stone pillars with writing on them.  However, this is not surprising. There are two ways Joshua could have done this. The first is to cover large stones, cut to be smooth, with plaster and write the words of the Torah on the plaster with ink or paint. The other way would be to engrave the text through the plaster to the stone, so that the letters would show through the plaster from the darker stone. In the first case the letters would eventually be washed off by dew and by rain. In the second case the plaster itself would deteriorate as it became exposed to the elements over the years.

This account in the Torah about the stone pillars and altar commanded to Moses and erected by his successor,  Joshua remind me of the story of the two friends, lets call them Reuven and Shimon, who were traveling together in the desert. At one point, they begin to argue. Then Reuven slaps Shimon. Shimon does nothing, but instead writes in the sand, “Today my best friend slapped me.”

Days passed and the friends continue their journey. They come to an oasis and decide to bathe in a spring.  Shimon begins to drown, but Reuven throws himself in the water and rescues him. A grateful Shimon takes his knife and carves into a stone, “Today my best friend saved my life.”

Reuven is intrigued, so he asks Shimon, “Why did you write in the sand when I slapped you, but now when I rescued you, you carved it into stone?

Shimon answers with a smile, “When someone offends me, I try to write it in sand, where the marks are easily erased by the winds. When someone does something good for me, I prefer to leave it in stone so that I never forget the kindness and remember to be grateful.

G-d gives us the capacity for forgiveness as an antidote to the hatred and anger that can poison our lives. May we follow the example of Shimon, letting the winds of forgiveness gracefully wipe away the insults and injuries we have incurred. May we follow the example of Shimon and engrave in our hearts even the smallest act of kindness.  

Shabbat Shalom

Photo By Andrzej Kryszpiniuk  

https://unsplash.com/@kryszpin/portfolio

 

 

High Holidays Like No Other

 

This evening marks Rosh Chodesh Elul, the first day of the month of  Elul is the month when we begin our spiritual preparations for the Yamim Noraim – the Days of Awe. Elul is the official opening of our High Holidays. The numerical value of the word “Elul” is the same as the numerical value of the word “binah” – understanding.  Through understanding comes repentance.

 These upcoming High Holidays will be, in many ways unlike any other we have ever experienced. Some of us will welcome the changes and adaptations necessitated by our need to conduct services online due to restrictions related to Covid-19.   One noticeable change is that our services will be shorter than usual.  Over the years I have been asked why we repeat so many of our prayers during the course of our High Holiday services. This year it will be “one and done, no prayer will be repeated. I have heard it said, on occasion, that some of us are bored at services.  I am happy to announce that this year, in the interest of brevity, we have cut out all the boring parts! Surely this will be a welcome change for some in our congregations.

Yet none of these changes compensate for the fact that we will not be together as a community in our beautiful sanctuary this High Holiday season. Extended families and friends are less likely to get together. We will not be able to sing together. Much of what makes the High Holidays a joyous, comforting and celebratory occasion will be absent. We will all have to work harder to make the holidays memorable, special and spiritual.

Rabbis and Cantors and worship committees throughout the world are working hard to re-design High Holiday services so they can be spiritually meaningful to themselves and to their congregation. I have been having regular meetings with my rabbinic colleagues over the internet and believe me we are all rather anxious about this. Many of us are even worried whether our congregants will show up at all! And if they do, how involved could they possibly be participating through a computer

Even in the best of times, clergy  cannot do it alone. Even in the best of times, we need the help of our congregation. These, I do not have to tell you, are NOT the best of times. The cantor and I need YOUR help more than ever if we are to make these holidays  meaningful , spiritually rich and sustaining. 

How can you help us? Since you will not be coming to the sanctuary, we ask you to make your home into a sanctuary. Cantor Matt Axelrod of Congregation Beth Israel in Scotch Plains, New Jersey, recently made some suggestions on how to do this. I have added several suggestions myself.    

1)     Set up a pleasant space in your home where everyone can gather to see the services. If you have external speakers for your computer, use them. If you are able to hook up your computer to your larger television screen, even better.  Buy flowers to make the room more cheerful. If you can face east, toward Jerusalem, do so. If you are unable to face east, at least know where east is in your room.

2)      Get dressed up.  Although you may choose not to get dressed up in a suit or a formal dress, you might want to reconsider attending services   in sweatpants or jeans. Buy a new shirt or blouse for the Holidays and wear it for services. It is traditional when wearing clothing for the first time to recite the Shehechiyanu blessing. Don a tallit and a kipah for services. If you do not own a tallit, this would be a great time to purchase one. (and another chance to recite “Shehechiyanu”!) Stand up and sit down at the appropriate times. Being dressed in a certain way and sitting in your specially created sanctuary can go a long way in creating the proper mood and atmosphere conducive to prayer.

3)      Come on time and make sure everybody in the family is there in your newly created worship space. Since services will be shorter, the older children in the household should be encouraged to attend throughout. When you hear a congregational melody that you know – sing!  Respond, “amen” when it is time.

4)      Hold a prayer book. Our congregation is holding a drive-through Food Donation and Prayer Book Pick-up event on Sunday September 13 from 10 am to noon. If you cannot make it, we will drop off as many prayer books at your home as you need. Each family member should have their own Machzor. You can also follow along with the Torah reading in that chumash that your son or daughter got for their bar or bat mitzvah. Or, download the Torah reading for the day from the internet. The High Holiday Machzor is also available on our website if that works for you.

5)      We will all be sitting in front of our computers. You will be tempted to check your emails. DON’T. You will be tempted to shop online. DON’T. You will be tempted to plan next summer’s vacation. DON’T. You will be tempted to go to the kitchen for a snack. Don’t go! Resist these temptations. Stay focused on the services. Stay with us, physically and spiritually. We need you.

 

        Finally, I am going to post this on our Facebook page. Please share it with your friends and fellow congregants. Spread the word and brainstorm ideas. Send your ideas to me!

Above all, please do not wait until the last minute to think about how you will experience the High Holidays this year. In previous years, walking into the synagogue and taking your seat among the congregation was enough. That is not possible this year. This year, physical preparation and spiritual preparation go hand in hand. Think of this not as a loss, but as an opportunity to take more responsibility for your own experience of the Days of Awe.

Shabbat Shalom

 

Give Peace a Chance

 Our Cantor just sang the prayer, "Shalom Rav" set to music by Debbie Friedman, of blessed memory. 

Shalom Rav Al Yisrael Amekha means grant ABUNDANT peace to Israel, Your people. The word “rav” you might remember is related to the word “Rabbi” in English (“rav” in Hebrew) A “rabbi” is someone who makes learning “abundant” in a community. We also have the words “Shalom Rav” in our prophetic reading from Isaiah this week, albeit reversed.

וכל־בניך למודי יהוה ורב שלום בניך׃

“All of your children will be knowledgeable about G-d, and abundant shall be the peace of your children”.

The rabbis of Talmudic times noted that there were three other instances where the Bible uses this phrase, “rav shalom” – not merely “shalom”, peace, but “rav shalom” abundant peace. The first is from Psalm 72:

Oh G-d, grant your wisdom to a king, and Your righteousness to his son/ May he judge your people justly, Your humble folk fairly/ May he judge the poor of the people, save the needy, crush the oppressor……/ May the righteous flourish in his day, and may there be “abundant peace” [rav shalom] in the land.”

Although we no longer have Kings, the poet’s point is still relevant in our day. The writer of this psalm maintains that those who govern around the world can be judged by how successfully they care for their country’s poor. This, in turn, will lead to “rav shalom” abundant peace. Rav Shalom thus comes from wise, compassionate leadership and good government.

The second instance where the Rabbis find the term “rav shalom” is in Psalm 119. In this, by far the longest Psalm in the Bible, the author is focused on the idea that G-d can be found through adhering to Jewish ritual and leading an ethical life. The psalm’s author writes “There is rav shalom– abundant peace – to those who love Your Torah, for them there is no stumbling block”. In our own context, just as the government, in the previous example, must be knowledgeable and competent, so too the citizenry must be well educated and strive to lead moral lives. Then there could be “rav shalom”.

The third instance where the Rabbis find the words “rav shalom” is found in Psalm 37. The Psalmist writes, “….Place your trust in G-d, do not be bothered by a successful people if you know they are schemers/Give up on anger and abandon rage….for it leads to doing evil….soon the wicked will vanish entirely…./ in turn, the humble will inherit the earth, they shall revel in rav shalom – an abundance of peace.”

These days, in the Age of Covid-19, many are feeling an amorphous anger and frustration with “the world” or “the system” or “our leadership”.  The poet cautions us that our justifiable anger about this can lead to committing wicked acts ourselves. Putting our trust in G-d can help to guide our actions in combatting injustice so that we do not begin to resemble those who we are opposing. It is those who are humble, those who cleave to G-d’s moral law when pursuing a righteous cause, who will cause “rav shalom” an abundance of peace, to come into our lives. For G-d does not really “grant peace” at all, as it says in our prayers. Rather, G-d places the desire for peace in our hearts and within our reach.

Shabbat Shalom

Photo courtesy of Alice Donovan Rouse at Unsplash.com

 

 

 

No Person is an Island: Thoughts on Parasha Ekev

 

My colleague, Cantor Sandy Horowitz, shared an old Peanuts cartoon she dug up which aptly illustrates the relationship between Moses and the Jewish people after 40 years of leading them. In the cartoon Linus shares with his big sister Lucy that he wants to be a doctor when he grows up. Lucy replies that Linus could never be a doctor. Linus asks why not? “Because you don’t love mankind,” replies Lucy, “That’s why”. To which Linus replies:

 

One cannot question Moses’ love, commitment, and dedication to the Jewish People – am yisrael. He has sacrificed everything to promote their welfare. It is the actual people he cannot stand! In the parasha for this week he bitterly rebukes them. He recounts their sins in detail – the sin of the Golden Calf, how they complained and had little faith in G-d, how they rebelled and wanted to return to Egypt. He tells them that they really do not deserve to inherit the Land of Canaan. They will only possess it, he says, because of the promise that G-d made to Abraham and Sarah, to Isaac and Rebecca, to Jacob, Rachel and Leah.

In evoking the names of our ancestors Moses is reminding the people that they are part of something greater than themselves. He is reminding them that they are but the latest link in a story that began well before they themselves walked the earth.

The Torah that G-d has given them through Moses will serve as a constitution of sorts by which they will govern themselves when they settle the Land of Canaan. Unlike our Constitution, there is no “Bill of Rights”.  Rather, the Torah speaks in the language of “obligation”—our obligation to G-d and our obligation to one another. When the Torah speaks, as it does in our Parasha, of being rewarded for following the commandments and punished for violating them, it is not addressing the individual. It is addressing the community. It is the community that will prosper if the community follows the law, it is the community that will suffer if it does not. I would go so far as to say that in the Torah the individual exists only in the context of the community. There is no Jew without a Jewish community. The English poet John Donne expressed how inextricably we are bound to one another in his famous poem:

No man is an island entire of itself; every man

is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;

if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe

is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as

well as any manner of thy friends or of thine

own were; any man's death diminishes me,

because I am involved in mankind.

And therefore never send to know for whom

the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.                           

 

John Donne’s message of our deep connection to one another, and Parasha Ekev’s message of collective responsibility, were never more relevant than in our own age of the Covid virus. If we ignore the laws of science, and instead choose to focus on our own autonomy,  on our right to act as we please and reject the idea that we are but a part of a whole, that we  have an obligation to others, then our immediate future looks bleak indeed. As G-d says in the Torah, “I set before you life and death, blessing and curse – choose life!”

Shabbat Shalom

Friday Night Sermon: Remix Judaism

Rabbi, would it be alright if I lit candles on Shabbat?

At first glance, a strange question to be coming from a fellow Jew. What objection could a rabbi possibly have for a person to perform the mitzvah of “hadlakat nerot”, kindling the Sabbath lights? But a deeper look revealed the anxiety that lay behind the question. First of all, the person asking the question was a man. Traditionally, it is women who light the Sabbath candles. Secondly, the person explained, he did not intend to perform the other rituals associated with the Sabbath Eve. He was not going to recite Kiddush. He was not going to have a challah or sit down to a special meal with a white tablecloth. He worked late on Friday, so he would not arrive home soon enough to light candles before sunset. He was not intending to attend services on Shabbat. He wanted to light candles, not because he wanted to follow Jewish Law. Jewish Law was irrelevant to him. He did not want to light candles because it was a “mitzvah” to light candles. He wanted to light candles because he remembered that, as a child, his mother lit candles. Lighting candles brought back warm memories of his childhood. But could he take up this custom, which he associated with something “religious people” did. After all, he was not “religious”. How would a rabbi feel about this? Was it kosher?

A new book by Roberta Kwall addresses the unease experienced by this Jewish man who wanted to light candles on Friday night. The book is titled “Remix Judaism: Preserving Tradition in a Diverse World”. It is written for Jews who want to experience a more meaningful Jewish existence outside of the parameters of an orthodox life-style. In the book Roberta Kwall writes about a woman named Sophia Marie Unterman who lives in New Orleans. Sophia hosts “arguably the least kosher weekly Shabbat dinners south of the Mason-Dixon line.” Sophia writes unapologetically about the contradictions inherent in her Jewish practice:

To me, mine is not a less Jewish Shabbat because there is shellfish, and bread-breaking long after sundown, but a just-as-meaningful one; it’s time to take a break from an insane workweek, relax with loved ones over a well-earned meal, give thanks for those elements, and keep my favorite family tradition alive.

Roberta acknowledges some in the Orthodox world may view the practice described above as completely misguided and even sinful. But Roberta believes that Sophia’s desire to observe Shabbat by hosting weekly dinners should be seen as something positive. She wants to keep a tradition alive that is meaningful to her and that she has adapted to meet her individual needs. In this day, Roberta writes, Sophia’s passion for Judaism is not something to be taken lightly.

Roberta Kwall, the author of Remix Judaism,will be speaking to us this Tuesday night, August 4, as part of our Speaker Series organized by Mickey Passman. I heard Roberta speak last February at a Chicago Board of Rabbis meeting. She is an engaging, entertaining, and vibrant speaker. I hope you can join us this Tuesday and see for yourselves.

Shabbat Shalom