It's All in the Preparation

Depiction of the Menorah
sketched in Maimonides' own hand.

Our parasha for this week opens with the command that Aaron the High Priest is to be tasked with lighting the seven candles of the Menorah daily. This follows last week’s parasha, where the heads of each tribe bring gifts at the dedication of the Tabernacle. Neither Aaron, nor his family, nor his tribe are present in this gift giving ceremony.  Rabbi’s imagine that Aaron is disappointed in not being represented at this dedication of the sanctuary. So, G-d, by way of consoling Aaron, comes to him in this week’s parasha saying, “Do not be downcast, Aaron, for your role is greater than theirs!  It is your duty, and the duty of your descendants, to trim and light the wicks of the Menorah throughout the generations.”

Contrary to this midrash, which makes the lighting of the Menorah the purview of the High Priest and his family, the Talmud tells us that in the Temple in Jerusalem, the lighting of the Menorah could be done by a layperson. The only duty restricted to the Priest was to trim the wicks of the lamps. Once the Priest prepared the wicks for lighting, he could bring the Menorah out from the holy area where the layperson was not allowed, and the layperson could light the Menorah. Then the Priest would return the lit Menorah to its proper place in the Temple precinct.

It must have been considered a great honor for a layperson to have the privilege of lighting the menorah in the Temple in Jerusalem. To imagine what this must have meant, think of the excitement a person might feel were they asked to throw the first pitch of a Cubs baseball game. Or how it must feel to be asked to ring the bell to start the trading day on Wall Street. That is what it must have felt like to be asked to light the Menorah at the Temple in Jerusalem. And like those two secular events in our own time, the honor must have been given in recognition of an achievement or of a high position in government or industry. You cannot just walk off the street and throw the first pitch of a baseball game!

If the actual lighting of the Menorah can be done by a layperson, what does that teach us about what is left of the mitzvah for the priest – the preparing and the trimming of the wick.  We can reason from this that it is a greater mitzvah to prepare the candle for lighting than it is for the lighting itself.  This teaches us that preparing to do a mitzvah is more important than the performance of the mitzvah itself. Holiness is found in the preparation for a mitzvah even more so than carrying it out.

It is something to think about the next time we are studying a Torah portion to read it in synagogue, when we are getting dressed up to attend a service, when we are baking challah for Friday night or setting the table for our Shabbat dinner. The mitzvah is not only in chanting before the congregation in the synagogue, or in attending the service, or in eating the Challah, or in dining together. The greater mitzvah, according to the Rabbis, comes in the preparation to do all these things. These are the holiest of moments. We need to appreciate them as such.

Shabbat Shalom

The Murder of George Floyd

Dear Congregants and Friends,

Six days ago our nation and the world witnessed the killing, caught on camera, of George Floyd, a 46 year old Black American man in the custody of the Minneapolis Police Department. By now the horrific image has been seared into the consciousness of the American public - a Minneapolis police officer with his leg on the neck of a black man lying prone and handcuffed on the ground, the victim pleading with the officer that he cannot breathe, even calling out to his dead mother for help, while three other officers stand by and watch. By the time the paramedics arrived, George Floyd was unresponsive. Massive protests have erupted nationwide and in other countries against this travesty, emblematic of the racism and inequality that has long afflicted our country.

 

As we know this is not an isolated incident. We have become used to periodic reports of police violence against Black citizens, often caught on cell phones by passers-by. This is not a matter of a few over-zealous policemen. This is a problem of systemic racism. A recent Washington Post analysis showed that black Americans are shot and killed by police at a rate that is twice as high as for White Americans. Tragically this is happening with the backdrop of the Covid-19 pandemic which has struck far more members of the Black community than any other group in the United States.

 

We are all accountable for doing our part to end the racism that has long been part of American society. At times like this I am reminded of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel's statement published in an essay entitled, "Why I am Involved in the Peace Movement". He writes, "The more deeply immersed I became in the thinking of the Prophets, the more powerfully it became clear to me what the lives of the Prophets sought to convey: that morally speaking, there is no limit to the concern one must feel for the suffering of human beings, that indifference to evil is worse than evil itself, that in a free society, some are guilty, but all are responsible."

 

The Torah teaches us that we must "not stand by the blood of our neighbor". (Leviticus 19:15) We cannot do nothing. We must not look the other way. It is imperative we elect officials on the local, state and national levels who will make racial justice a priority in this country. We must speak out when we hear racist comments made by our family members, friends, fellow workers and business associates. We must demand that we end discrimination in all walks of life. We must work toward the day when equality truly exists for all Americans regardless of the color of their skin. Perhaps most of all we need to examine and discuss with family, friends, and neighbors our own attitudes toward African Americans, reflect on and discuss with people in our lives our own prejudices, our own biases. Let us make sure we are not part of the problem, but part of the solution.

Rabbi Marc Rudolph

The Voice

Photo by Jason Rosewell on Unsplash

The Book of Leviticus opens with G-d calling to Moses, thus giving this third book of the Torah its name in Hebrew, “Vayikra”. Have you ever wondered what G-d’s voice sounds like? At Mount Sinai G-d’s voice appears to be overwhelming and frightening. The people who hear it beg Moses to speak to G-d in their stead. The Divine voice frightens them when G-d speaks to them. On the other hand, the prophet Elijah has a different experience when G-d speaks to him.

G-d tells the Prophet Elijah to stand on the mountain and wait for G-d to pass by:

“Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks, …… but the G-d was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the G-d was not in the earthquake.  After the earthquake came a fire, but the G-d was not in the fire. And after the fire came a still small voice……Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” In this story, G-d’s voice comes in a gentle whisper. (New International Version translation)

Samuel the prophet has a different experience hearing the voice of G-d. When he was a young boy his mother, Hannah, sent him to live with the aged priest, Eli. One night Samuel awoke to a voice calling him. He went to Eli and asked him what he wanted. Eli said he did not call him and told him to go back to sleep. This happened a second time. Again, Eli told him he had not called. When it happened a third time, Eli told him it must be the voice of G-d, and he should listen carefully. And indeed, it was. In this story, the voice of G-d sounds very much like the voice of any human being.

What seems clear is that G-d’s voice changes depending on who is listening. To the people of Israel standing at Sinai the voice was a roar; to Elijah a whisper, to Samuel, the voice of his teacher. Recently, researchers have been examining changes in the human voice. Dr. Yoram Levanon, a leading Israeli scientist, discovered that researchers can identify the onset of some diseases just by monitoring the change in a person’s voice. At first, they were able to diagnose Parkinson’s disease before the appearance of any other symptoms. They then found that they could identify coronary artery disease just by the sound of someone’s voice. Imagine being able to call an emergency room if you were experiencing chest pains and shortness of breath, and be told, just by analyzing your voice, whether you were having a heart attack or simply experiencing anxiety!

On December 11 of last year Dr. Levanon announced that his company, Vocalis Health, would focus on developing ways to diagnose coronary and respiratory diseases through vocal analysis. They are now turning their focus on a particular respiratory disease -- trying to identify people infected by Covid19 by identifying vocal biomarkers, vocal signatures beyond the capacity of the human ear but detectable through artificial intelligence. The hope is that early symptom detection and monitoring at home could be done through a smart phone. If it can be done, it would be an ideal way to do the millions of tests necessary to get us back on the road to normality.

What is more, each one of us can participate in this research by going to Vocalishealth.com, filling out a health questionnaire and recording our voice.

That is the message of hope that I want to leave you with today. There are some very smart and dedicated scientists out there who are tenaciously working on developing ways that human beings worldwide can return to normal in a safe and responsible way. Curious to think that we are just beginning to discover what the human voice might express without our knowledge. Our ancestors discovered the sublime wisdom in the voice of G-d; we are uncovering the hidden secrets of the voice of humankind.

Shabbat Shalom

When Civilization Begins

Photo by Adrien xplr on Unsplash

According to the Talmud, young children are supposed to start their Torah study with this week’s Torah portion, which is the beginning of the book of Leviticus. This has never made sense to me because this week’s Torah portion is all about animal sacrifice. It is a little bit gory and quite detailed as it goes into the preparation for the slaughter of animals that the ancient Israelites sacrificed as part of their worship. Would it not be wiser for a young child to start their Torah studies with the magnificent story of the Creation of the World or the inspiring stories of Abraham and Sarah, the first Jews?  What made the sages of the Talmud suggest that young children begin their studies with Leviticus?

Rabbi Peg Kershenbaum, a friend and colleague of mine, sent me a true story that I think can shed some light on the question. Years ago renowned anthropologist Margaret Mead was asked by a student what she considered to be the first sign of civilization in a culture. The student expected Mead to talk about fishhooks or clay pots or grinding stones.

But no. Mead’s reply was that the first sign of civilization in an ancient culture was the discovery by anthropologists  of a leg that had been broken and then healed. Mead explained that in the animal kingdom, if you break your leg, you die. You cannot run from danger, get to the river for a drink or hunt for food. You become food for prowling beasts. No animal survives a broken leg long enough for the bone to heal.

Mead explained, 'A broken leg that has healed is evidence that someone has taken time to stay with the one who fell, has bound up the wound, has carried the person to safety and has tended the person through recovery. Helping someone else through difficulty is where civilization starts'.

Perhaps the sages chose to teach a child about animal sacrifice first because children need to learn that it is through sacrifice that civilization endures. The person who helped his or her friend survive a broken leg so very long ago surely sacrificed a good deal in order to nurse them back to health. So too  these days, right here and now in our nation,  we hear and read about   countless numbers of   doctors, nurses,  first responders, ambulances drivers,  lab technicians and on and on  who report to work to care for the sick despite the dangers to their own health. We see it at so many levels, from the sacrifices of those who operate the cash registers in our supermarkets, to those who stock the shelves so that we can buy foods and essential supplies. We see it in the sacrifices of those who put themselves at risk to buy food for the more vulnerable in our communities. . We see it in the behavior of all of us who have  decided to adhere to the social distancing restrictions  thereby  sacrificing our need for human contact for the larger health and good of our towns, our cities, our country.  We will perhaps feel this sense of sacrifice most acutely as we sit down to our Passover Seders without the presence of family and friends who have gathered around our tables with us in years past. Fortunately, the amazing technologies of our times , at this moment, allow us to be connected with each nonetheless even if at a distance. For this we are grateful. We may be alone – but we are not lonely!

Yes, we are at our best when our sacrifices serve the need of others. Stay safe and healthy.                      

Is the Corona-virus an Act of God?

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Last week a congregant wrote me to ask me a question.  “Rabbi,” they write, “Our school district has cancelled classes and states the missed days will never be made up, as they call this an "Act of G-d." My question to you is just that: is this really an Act of G-d?

Isn’t that a marvelous question? I think when the school system uses the phrase "Act of G-d" they are not making a theological pronouncement. To my understanding, an "act of G-d" is a metaphor for "a natural catastrophe", something like a hurricane or a tornado that causes great damage. It is an unforeseen, overwhelming, event that we have little capacity to prevent it. While our current crisis surely meets these criteria, we need not worry. The school system is still maintaining the separation of Church and State, despite the wording of the announcement.

What role does G-d play in the Coronavirus crisis? We Jews affirm that G-d is the "Creator of Everything" which would include a destructive virus.  I come to you this evening to let G-d off the hook, at least with respect to what we are experiencing at this time. I am going to argue that we exonerate G-d. G-d may have created the Coronavirus, for what reason we do not know, but G-d is surely not responsible for  either infecting people or spreading the virus. That responsibility lies firmly at our feet.

Scientists believe that the CoronaVirus is an infection that has “jumped” from wildlife, most likely bats, to human beings. This kind of jump from the wild to humans has probably happened throughout history. In the past, the person who was infected by this jump from wildlife probably died or infected a small number of people in their village, who died, and that was the end of the virus in humans. Today, a person who is infected in one country one day could be anywhere in the world the following day coming in contact with far more people. The very mobility that gives us the opportunity to travel widely and see the world contributes greatly to the spread of disease.

But there is another factor. The degradation of our environment, the fact that we humans encroach more and more on areas where we previously had no business, puts us in greater contact with wild animals and puts stress on its creatures themselves. The stress lowers the immune response of the animals harboring a virus that they had previously kept in check. The virus multiplies. The animals are caught and caged in markets, stacked one on top of the other, further increasing stress and the animal sheds more virus. People buy these now sick exotic animals for food or as pets, and somehow the virus makes its way to the human. At least that is the theory as it now stands.

It is not an act of G-d, it is an act of humankind. It highlights the urgent need for the world to be less cavalier in how we treat the environment.  It is a warning, perhaps from G-d, that destroying habitat and degrading the landscape not only damages the earth but damages people as well.

No, G-d is not punishing us or causing our problems.  On the contrary, we can be sure that G-d is with us in our struggles, in our fears, and in our suffering. Countless individuals and communities, throughout the generations, have turned to G-d for comfort and strength. Danger, challenge and fear are part of the human condition. We like those who came before us, can turn to G-d and to one another,  to provide comfort,  to give us courage to endure through hardship and to give us strength and wisdom to meet the challenges of the future.

                                                                                                                        

Pursuing Fame and Glory

I recently watched a movie made in 2004 called “Troy”. It stars Brad Pitt in the role of Achilles. It tells the story of Achilles, the greatest warrior of all Greek heroes. The Greeks are about to go to war against Troy but Achilles is reluctant and to fight.  Achilles senses that he is not only being used but also exploited by his king, Agamemnon, who he doesn’t like very much at all. The movie portrays Achilles as someone who would rather stay home, tend his sheep, settle down and have a family.  The problem for everyone else is -- how can we get Achilles -- this legendary warrior and hero -- to join us in battle? 

The answer lies in appealing to Achilles’ vanity, specifically his desire for fame. In one scene, Achilles receives a messenger from the King asking him to sail with them to Troy.  Achilles wavers.  He doesn’t want to fight any more.  Then Achilles’ mother lays it our for him. She reminds him that he can remain home and be a shepherd or, he can go to Troy and become famous!   She tells him: If you stay here, you may live a long and quiet life, but if you go with the King to Troy, EVEN IF YOU DIE, your fame will last for a thousand years! (I can’t imagine a Jewish mother saying that to her son!)  And so on and so forth, throughout the movie.  Each time Achilles is reluctant to join the battle, someone appeals to the opportunity for fame, for the chance to be remembered forever. Achilles own desire for fame overcomes his nagging doubts that he is fighting on the wrong side of this battle.

The story of Achilles reflects the value the ancient Greeks put on the heroic quest for fame and glory. According to the myth, Achilles’ pursuit of fame did not end with his death on the battlefield. It continued beyond his mortal life to his eternal afterlife! In our culture as well, people are often obsessed with celebrity and fame. We are bombarded with the comings and goings on of the rich and famous on social media, television, magazines and newspapers.  Scientific American magazine reported a study that a desire for fame solely for the sake of being famous was the most popular future goal among a group of 10-12 year olds. That is, when 10-12 years old were asked about their future goals, most said that they “just wanted to be famous”. Their goal was not financial success, not professional success, not getting married or having a family – their goal was to be famous!

Social scientists believe there are three main reasons that pre-adolescents want to be famous. First, they equate “fame” with being valued and recognized by the larger public. Remember how a few weeks ago Twitter exploded after Brad Pitt was photographed wearing a name tag at an Oscar’s luncheon? Brad Pitt is famous – why would he need a nametag! Second, fame is associated with wealth, power and a lavish lifestyle. Third, pre-teens believe that the riches and high profile associated with fame would make family and friends proud of them.

Fame and power are also alluded to in the Torah. The Torah tells us that “Moses was very great in the land of Egypt, among Pharaoh’s courtiers and among the people of Egypt.”  His reputation even spread outside of Egypt. Yitro, Moses’ father in law, heard of Moses’ fame and accomplishments in the Land of Midian. Indeed, the word spread far and wide. We read in the Song of the Sea, “The nations heard and trembled”.  The name of Moses, it appears, is known throughout the ancient world.

Yet we know that fame and celebrity meant nothing to Moses.  He didn’t care whether he was famous or not.  When G-d becomes angry with the Israelites, he threatens to wipe them out, and begin the People of Israel over with Moses and his descendants.  “I will destroy them, and make YOU a great nation,” says G-d to Moses.  Moses, however, is worried more about G-d’s reputation than his own. “People will say, “You took them out of Egypt only to kill them in the desert!”  Furthermore, Moses says, if you don’t forgive the Israelites, then you might as well erase my name from the Torah. Moses doesn’t care about fame, Moses doesn’t care about his personal legacy, Moses doesn’t care about being remembered in the Torah -- all he cares about is the cause that he is serving.  All he cares about is G-d and the Jewish people.

Author Leil Lowndes writes: "There are two kinds of people in this life. Those who walk into a room and say, 'Well, here I am.' And those who walk in and say, 'Ah, there you are.'" Moses is the second type – he puts his ego aside and cares about others. Therefore this great man is remembered as the humblest human being who ever lived.

Greek heroes sought fame, honor and glory for themselves. Jewish tradition emphasizes the heroic nature of selflessness, compassion, and service to others. Which set of values do you choose to live by?

Shabbat Shalom

Sacred Spaces - A Synagogue Initiative for the #Me Too Era

In this week’s Parasha, Bo, we find the commandment to wear tefillin. Tefillin are small square black boxes that contain certain biblical verses. These boxes are attached to straps. We attach one box to our arm, and one box to our head by means of these straps. Each day during morning prayers, except on the Sabbath and on holidays, traditional Jews wear these tefillin in observance of this commandment

The precise commandment is, “You shall place a sign upon your hand, and a reminder between your eyes, in order that the Law of G-d shall be in your mouth.”

The first part of this verse is quite clear. The tefillin are a sign and a reminder. But a sign and a reminder of what? Since this commandment is given in the context of the Exodus story, we deduce that the tefillin are reminders  to us of G-d’s role in bringing our people from slavery to freedom.  They remind us of the values of Justice, of Freedom, of Kindness – the values by which G-d wants us to live our lives. However, the second part of the verse   is a bit more difficult. What does it mean that “The Law of G-d shall be in your mouth?”

The contemporary Rabbi Jack Riemer has taught me that this means that we must speak up on behalf of the values that Judaism teaches. The verse teaches that it is not sufficient to merely “remember” these values, but to stand up for them in our daily lives. We not only must live by these values ourselves, we need to speak up when we see these values violated in our community, in our nation, in our world.

One of these values is respect for one another. We are to remember that our fellows are created “BeTzelem Elohim” – in the image of G-d – and treat them accordingly. We have recently been reminded of our failure as a society to do this by the spread of the #Me Too Movement. This movement calls attention to the ways in which we have failed to treat everyone with the respect every human being deserves.

The #Me Too movement was founded in 2006 by an African American woman named Tarana Burke. A survivor of sexual abuse herself, she became convinced of the need to develop a community of survivors on social media using the hashtag #Me Too. The movement exploded in 2017 when Hollywood actresses and actors began to reveal the sexual abuse and harassment prevalent in the movie industry. Suddenly, many women, and men, were coming forward with posts on Facebook saying “me too” – I have experienced sexual abuse and assault.

I should not have been surprised when I saw posts by congregants on Facebook with the hashtag #Me Too. I should not have been surprised when I saw posts from family from friends and from neighbors with the hashtag #Me Too. I should not have been surprised to learn about the prevalence of sexual abuse and assault in our country and our world. I knew that this happened. I just didn’t realize that it happened to the people I knew.

In April of last year I received a notice through the Chicago Board of Rabbis that the Jewish United Fund of Chicago – the JUF – was funding an initiative called “Sacred Spaces”. Five congregations in Chicagoland would be chosen to participate in this ground breaking program. The core of the program is a series of five half-day workshops held in Chicago that would educate us about abuse, harassment and bullying and prepare us to write a policy and develop a standing committee to address these issues in our own community  should they occur.

I want to make clear that when I applied for our congregation to participate in this program I did not do so because I thought there was abuse and harassment occurring in our synagogue. I applied because I was very aware that abuse and harassment can occur in any institution, whether it is a sacred community like a church, mosque, or synagogue, or whether it is a secular institution or business. The #Me Too movement helped make me, and others, more aware of the magnitude and devastating effects of this problem in our society. The question was, and is, what can we do about it?

Congregation Beth Shalom was accepted as one of the five congregations in Chicagoland that would undergo this training. Our Board of Directors gave us the official stamp of approval to participate. A group of five synagogues in the Washington DC area are also participating in the same program in their community.

The 10 people on our committee represent a cross section of our congregation. Besides me, Cantor Perman, Dore Tarr, Jill Lexier, Ann Rabin, Julia Rabin, Al Barshevsky, Chris Igo, Erica Scott, and Eric Forster are the members of our committee. We have attended four of the half-day seminars – our final meeting is this Wednesday at Spertus. Aside from these seminars, our committee has met numerous times on our own. Thus far we have written a values statement, a description of the roles and responsibilities of a standing committee and procedures for screening and hiring new employees. 

Our goal ultimately is to expand beyond this committee and involve the entire congregation in creating a culture that is more aware of the potential for abuse and harassment, in putting policies into place that will help minimize the chance of it happening here, and in developing the tools to address it in respectful, lawful, confidential and professional ways should it occur in our congregation.

Our Torah reading this week describes the final three plagues that afflicted Egypt. The ninth plague is described as a “thick darkness” that descended on Egypt; a darkness so severe that “a man could not see his fellow.” Some have understood this metaphorically, as describing a society in which a person could not see the pain of their fellow human being. The #Me Too movement has helped shed light on an on the private suffering of our fellow human being and the shame they had to endure. It has helped pull the curtain back on an area of life that had heretofore been hidden. Now that we have seen it, we have the responsibility to speak up and do something about it. The Sacred Spaces initiative is our opportunity to do something about that in our small corner of the world.

Shabbat Shalom