Where Flowers Never Grow -- Parasha BeHaalotecha

Our Parasha this week opens with G-d commanding Aaron to light the seven branched Menorah. The Menorah stands in the Ohel Moed, Tent of Meeting, in front of the Ark that holds the Ten Commandments.  Aaron is to light the Menorah daily, so that it burns from evening till morning.  Just as we light the Chanukah Menorah in a particular way, from left to right, so Aaron lights the wicks of the Menorah in a certain order.  He starts with the outermost branch on the right and lights toward the center, then moves from the outermost branch on the left and moves toward the center. This is to convey the idea of having a central point of unity toward which all Jewish people must direct their energies.  The idea of the unity of the Jewish people is also symbolized by the fact that the menorah was fashioned out of one single block of gold.

The idea of the unity of the Jewish people was on my mind this week when I learned that the plan to build an egalitarian plaza at the Western Wall in Jerusalem is once again on hold. In January the Israeli government announced that a permanent government supervised plaza would be built in the area of Robinson’s Arch on which non-Orthodox prayer would be allowed.  However, this week ultra-Orthodox worshipers, led by the Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Jerusalem, Rabbi Shlomo Amar, erected a mehitza at the egalitarian section of the wall to separate men and women in prayer.  When Reform and Conservative Jews held a mincha service outside the formal prayer area of the Western Wall, as a form of protest, Ultra-Orthodox counter-demonstrators threw bottles, sang loudly and yelled “You are not Jews” in order to drown them out. Speaking after the service, Chief Rabbi Amar said a mixed-gender plaza constituted an “unforgivable wrong” that would “weaken Jerusalem” and the Jewish people.

Or take the incident that I read about just yesterday. A woman applied for a marriage license in Pehtah Tikvah in Israel. She and her fiancé were refused the license because her conversion to Judaism in the United States was judged to be invalid. The reason given was that the rabbi who had overseen the conversion in the USA was not on the list of Orthodox rabbis approved by the Israeli Rabbinate to perform conversions. This in itself would not be newsworthy except for the fact that the rabbi with whom this woman studied is one of the most prominent Modern Orthodox rabbis in America, Rabbi Haskel Lookstein. In fact, Donald Trump’s daughter studied with Rabbi Lookstein, and she converted to Judaism under his auspices. This is just the latest salvo in a running dispute between Ultra-Orthodox rabbis in Israel and Modern Orthodox rabbis in the United States over the wielding of rabbinic authority.

Incidents like this naturally lead one to wonder, “In what ways are the Jewish people united?” If this is unity, what does “division” look like?

When it comes to internal matters of religious practice and personal status, we Jews are sadly divided. Yet when it comes to a shared history, a shared destiny, and to a sense of responsibility toward one another there is indeed a unity of understanding and of purpose. Anti-Semites, after all, never have, and never will, make distinctions among Jews as to who is secular or religious, Reform or Orthodox.  Just as important, we share the Torah, our sacred book and Hebrew, the sacred language in which it is written. Hebrew is the language of our prayer. In all of these things, we are united.

The power of Torah, and the power of Hebrew language in which it is written, unites us despite our many differences. This is why Jews who may not be able to pray together can always study together. This can be seen in the work of an Israeli organization called Kesher Yehudi, or “Jewish Connections”. The organization was founded in the aftermath of the kidnapping and murder of three yeshiva students -- Gil-Ad Shaer, 16, Eyal Yifrah, 19, and Naftali Fraenkel, 16 -- by Hamas in June, 2014. The founders of Jewish Connections wanted to find ways of sustaining the sense of unity that Israelis experienced during the eighteen day search for the teen agers.   Kesher Yehudi pairs up religious and secular Israelis to study Torah together on a weekly basis. The program is not for everybody. The religious participant is told, “If you view your participation only as an act of hessed  –charity -- for an ignorant secular Jew, this is not the program for you. If you do not believe that every time two Jews meet each has something to offer the other and that both can gain and grow from the relationship, this is not the program for you.”

By Studying Torah together, and learning from one another, Israelis from all walks of life form life-long friendships that bridge the gap of the secular-religious divide. One participant said, “It is fun to rediscover each time we study that the Torah is the precious possession of every Jew. And it does not matter where you are coming from; the Torah is the glue holding us together.”

Ultimately, both passionate differences, and quiet meeting of the minds, in their own way, represent Jewish unity. We argue passionately about Jewish practice because Judaism really matters to us. Wherever we are on the Jewish spectrum, committed Jews are in agreement that Judaism is serious business. Judaism is a big deal. It is worth fighting over what Judaism looks like. These disagreements are, as it says in Pirke Avot "Disputes for the sake of Heaven" which have enduring value. At the same time, we must bring to our conversations, whether they are about religion, or politics or personal conflicts, a sense of love, and even a sense of doubt. The Israeli poet Yehuda Amichai puts it this way, “From the place that we are right, flowers will never grow in the spring.” The sense of certainty and self-righteousness that we often bring to our disagreements provide but sterile ground for productive growth and progress.

The menorah is fashioned out of one block of gold, but it has separate and distinct points of light. To me this teaches us that we all have our own rays of light, our own unique and different perspectives, to bring to the conversation. Unity comes about, perhaps, not when we all agree, but when we see all sides of a dispute and recognize the value of different positions.

Shabbat Shalom

Parasha Naso: A Very Special Blessing

In 1979, archeologist Gabrielle Barklay set out on a routine dig outside of the walls of the Old City of Jerusalem.  He was interested in uncovering evidence of activities that would take place outside of the ancient city of Jerusalem – quarrying of stones, military encampments, growing of vegetables, burials, roads and military watch towers. He enlisted a group of 12 and 13 year olds from a local club to help him. They started digging on a hill near St. Andrews Church in Jerusalem. They soon found remains of an ancient church and some graves. They found one bead in a grave; everything else had been looted. Underneath a bench in a burial chamber they found a nook. That nook needed to be cleaned so that it could be photographed.

Dr. Barklay needed to assign one of his charges to clean out the nook. He chose a boy named Nathan, who was always tugging at his shirt. He thought to himself that this was an ideal place to put Nathan, since he would be out of his hair for a while. To his surprise, Nathan cleaned the nook conscientiously. Then he started fooling with a hammer. Which as you might guessed, is usually not a good thing on an archeological dig. When Nathan banged at the bottom of the nook he has just cleaned, the bottom gave way -- Nathan had found the entryway to a secret chamber. There were thousands of objects in the chamber including 125 objects of silver, 40 iron arrowheads, gold, ivory, glass, bone and 150 semi-precious stones. Everyone was sworn to secrecy. If word got out in Jerusalem about the find, masses of people would descend upon the site looking for treasures.

As the dig continued, a thirteen year old girl walked up to Dr. Barklay with something in her hand that looked like a purple cigarette butt.  Later, another cylindrical object of about an inch long was found. Dr. Barklay suspected that these were amulets made of silver rolled into a scroll. If it was an amulet, perhaps something was written inside.

The contents of the tomb were eventually dated to the time of Jeremiah the Prophet, around 600 BCE. Whatever might be written on these amulets was very old indeed.

Now, one doesn’t just unroll a silver scroll that has been rolled up for 2600 years as it would disintegrate in your hands. The scrolls were sent to restoration experts in England, but they refused to work on the scroll for fear of destroying it.  Then the scrolls were sent to experts in Germany, who also declined the invitation to work on the scrolls.  Finally, experts from the Israel Museum agreed to try to unfurl the scrolls. It took them three years to develop a process to successfully unroll the small silver scrolls. When they did, they found Hebrew letters, which read as follows:  

May G-d Bless You and Watch over You/ May G-d shine His Light upon You and be gracious to You/ May G-d lift His face to you and grant you Peace.

You will recognize this as the Priestly Blessing, the blessing that we recite at every bar and bat mitzvah at our synagogue. It is the custom of many families to use this blessing to bless their children at the Sabbath dinner table. This blessing has become part of our standard prayer service. This very blessing is found in this week’s Torah reading in the Book of Naso.

On our Congregational trip to Israel of May 2015 we saw the oldest manuscript of the Ten Commandments in existence. It was on display at the Israel Museum. That manuscript was 2000 years old.  The blessing found on the silver scrolls were written six hundred years before that.   As of today these silver scrolls contain the oldest Biblical passages ever found in writing.

I translate the first two words of the final line of this passage, “Yisah Adonai Panav Eliecha”, as “May G-d Smile Upon You.” Literally the passage reads, “May G-d Lift His Face Toward You”, but I believe that a “lifting of the face” -- as opposed to a face-lift – means a smile. In either case, whether translated as “lifting your face” or smiling -- there is a sense of asking G-d to acknowledge us individually. I once heard an objection to the idea that G-d pays attention to individuals. The person reasoned that G-d must be a very busy G-d – running the universe and being omnipotent and all – and so G-d can hardly have time to pay attention to each person on earth. Another person in the conversation responded that if the IRS can keep track of the income of 350 million Americans, surely G-d could watch over every single human being. 

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, former Chief Rabbi of Great Britain, relates a charming story that goes to the heart of this matter.  A crowd of people are gathered on a hill by the sea to watch a great ship pass by. A young child is waving vigorously. One of the men in the crowd asks him why. He says, “I am waving so the captain of the ship can see me and wave back.” “But,” said the man, “the ship is far away, and there is a crowd of us here. What makes you think that the captain can see you?” “Because,” said the boy, “the captain of the ship is my father. He will be looking for me among the crowd.”

Rabbi Sacks concludes the story by saying, “That is roughly what we mean when we say, ‘May the Lord turn His face toward you.’ There are seven billion people now living on this earth. What makes us any of us more than a face in the crowd, a wave in the ocean, a grain of sand on the sea shore? -- The fact that we are God’s children. God is our parent. He turns His face toward us. He cares.”

Yes, God smiles at us.

Shabbat Shalom

Bamidbar: Ya Gotta Have Heart

 Whether you are a child beginning studies in our own Congregation Beth Shalom Religious School, or an adult studying at an Israeli Ulpan, one of the first Hebrew words that you will learn is a word used over 600 times in the Bible. That word is “rosh”, or “head”. Our parasha this week begins with G-d commanding Moses to take a census, or, as it says in the Bible, to “count the heads” of all males 20 years and up. The “head” of each tribe would stand with Moses as the census was taken. Even today, the “head” of the government of Israel, the Prime Minister” is called, “Rosh Ha Memshalah”. The spiritual leader of an institution of Torah Study is called the “Rosh Yeshivah”. Of course, the first day of the New Year, or head of the year, is called “Rosh Hashannah”.

Israeli scholar Rabbi Adin Steinsalz poses a question which might seem to have an obvious answer. Why are the leaders of the Jewish people called “heads”? His answer is that just as the head is the most important part of the human body, so the “head” is the most important part of the body politic. The head sends orders to other parts of the body. But it is a two way street. When a part of the body is in pain, it sends a signal to the head to register that feeling. That’s how we know to pull our hand from a flame, or we know to seek medical care when we are sick. So too, an authentic leader must be able to both send orders and feel and register the pain of those that he or she leads. A leader must be able to respond to that pain in a productive way, in a way that heals. A true leader does not just delegate and command.  A true leader is sensitive to the feelings of those who are following and responds appropriately. That is why the leaders of the Jewish people are called “heads”.

Following the census of males over twenty, Moses organizes the tribes according to how they are to set out from Mount Sinai to the Promised Land.  The leading tribe, the tribe of Judah, will be placed at the head of the formation. But the Tent of Meeting, which contains the Ark with the Torah inside of it, will not be at the head along with Judah. One might think the ark, too, would lead the way. Instead, the Tent of Meeting, with the Torah inside, will be at the center of the Israelite formation. 

The Hofetz Chaim, another great 20^th century sage, explains why the Torah travels at the center of the Israelite formation and not at the head. He compares the Torah to the “heart” of the body. Just as the heart pumps out blood to all of the limbs of the body, so the Torah, “the Tree of Life to all who hold fast to it” nourishes all of the parts of the Jewish people.  Just as the body is sustained by the heart, whose place is in the center of the body, so, all of Israel maintains its vitality through the Torah being the center of Jewish life.

It follows, then, that Torah must be at the center of our synagogue life as well. Other things are important – speakers on terrorism as we heard last week, social action, inter-faith relationships, fund raising, social events, Israeli dancing, youth programming, and the like – but without Torah at the center of synagogue life we are no more than a Jewish Community Center without a pool and a gym.

This Sunday marks the Festival of Shavuot. It is called “zman matan toratenu” – the time of the giving of the Torah. It is the only holiday in the Bible for which a date is not given. Rather, the Festival of Shavuot, celebrating the Giving of the Torah, is connected to Passover, our Festival of Freedom, celebrating our liberation from slavery in Egypt.  If the Torah does not give us a date for Shavuot, how do we know when to observe it?  The Torah tells us to count 49 days, starting with the Second day of Passover. On the 50^th day we are to celebrate Shavuot. The 49 days between Passover and Shavuot, the “Counting of the Omer” is like a necklace strung between two holidays, inextricably connecting one to the other.

What is the Torah teaching by connecting these two holidays in this way? In a sense, one can’t have one without the other. Shavuot without Passover is impossible.  Passover without Shavuot makes no sense. Passover without Shavuot makes no sense because Shavuot represents the fulfillment of the promise of freedom.  Freedom is not the negation of bondage. Freedom is not the absence of oppression. Freedom does not end in the escape from slavery. The connection between Passover and Shavuot teaches us that our Exodus from Egypt was not an end in and of itself; rather, it was a means toward the fulfillment of a mission that is embodied in the Torah. Physical freedom is only a partial freedom. Its full realization comes only with the giving and receiving of the Torah at Mount Sinai.

Shavuot without Passover is impossible. One cannot serve two masters.  Without freedom, one cannot serve G-d. Freedom is necessary if the Jewish people are to accept the Torah at Sinai. Without the freedom of will to accept “the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven”, as the commandments are called, there could be no Sinai.

On Shavuot, we receive the Torah and understand the essential meaning of the freedom we were granted on Passover. We, as a people, are no longer subject to Pharaoh’s arbitrary rule. Our Rabbis tell us that Pharaoh’s greatest cruelty was that he imposed meaningless work upon the Jewish people. We are now subject to G-d’s rule. We show our acceptance of G-d’s sovereignty over us by observing G-d’s mitzvoth as articulated in the Torah and interpreted by our rabbis. Our work in this world is no longer the meaningless, aimless labor of Pharaoh. Our work, and our very existence, is imbued with divine significance.  That is the heart of the matter.

Shabbat Shalom

Behukotai -- Scared Straight

This week’s parasha has to be the most difficult Torah reading of the entire year. It is the final chapter in the Book of Leviticus. The Jewish people are still settled around Mount Sinai. They have been given many of the commandments that they are to follow as they look forward to leaving their encampment at Mount Sinai and setting out for the Promised Land.   The parasha begins well enough by outlining the blessings that the Jewish people will receive once in the land if they follow G-d’s laws. There will be abundant rains in their due seasons, and the crops will be bountiful. They are assured they will be able to defend the land, even if they are outnumbered.  If they follow G-d’s commandments there will be peace throughout the land. G-d’s presence will dwell among the people.  The Jewish people will live in freedom undisturbed by foreign domination.

As the saying goes, “It doesn’t get any better than that”.  Peace and prosperity await the society that follows G-d’s ways. But the Torah does not leave it at that.  The Torah proceeds to warn of the consequences of failing to follow G-d’s laws.  If we fail to follow G-d’s laws, the Torah threatens that fever and illness will come upon the Jewish people.  Our enemies will dominate us and there will be no escape.  If we continue to fail to follow G-d’s laws, then the land will not yield its produce. There will be wild beasts run amuck that will attack our children and wipe out our livestock. The Torah doesn’t stop there! If we still persist in ignoring G-d people will be so hungry they will resort to cannibalism; cities will be laid waste, religious sanctuaries will be destroyed. Finally, if the Jewish people continue to ignore G-d’s ways, the people will be scattered among the nations, and the land will become desolate.

What is the purpose of all of these curses? Apparently, G-d does not feel that rewards and incentives -- the blessings -- are enough to encourage the Jewish people to act in accordance with G-d’s will once they enter the Land of Israel. The Torah assumes that draconian threats are also necessary to keep the Jewish people “in line”.  In addition to offering rewards, the Torah tries to frighten the people into following G-d’s laws by laying out a vision of the punishments in store if they do not “walk in G-d’s ways”.

Is this good educational policy? Can one frighten people into behaving properly by describing the dire consequences of going down the wrong path in life? Many of you might remember the “Scared Straight” programs that were established in the 1970s in the United States in order to deter juvenile crime.  At risk youth would be brought to adult prisons where they toured the prison, lived the life of a prisoner for a full day, and heard about the harsh reality of prison life directly from the inmates themselves. The hope was that experiencing the cruel conditions of prison life for a day would convince at risk youth to avoid actions which could lead them to become inmates themselves. They would be “scared straight”.

It seems like the same strategy is being pursued in the Torah. Show people the consequences of their wayward actions, the Torah seems to be saying, and they won’t engage in what are ultimately self-destructive behaviors. It doesn’t work. When the “Scared Straight” program was evaluated by social scientists, they found that participants in the program were a third more likely to engage in criminal activity than those of a similar background who did not participate in the program. In a report to Congress in 1997, the “Scared Straight” program was placed in the “What does not work” category. It turns out that we cannot frighten at risk kids into being law abiding citizens. Nor could Moses, judging from the next book of the Torah, frighten the Jewish people into obeying G-d’s will.

What does research tell us works with at-risk juveniles? Mentoring programs have been found to be effective in reducing levels of delinquency, substance use and academic failure. Personal relationships that last at least 12 months are effective in improving self-esteem, social skills, and outlook about the future.  Personal contact with positive role models provide far more benefit than scaring young people with negative experience.

These insights from recent past, as well as the insights from the Torah, can also help us in educating and encouraging our children to follow a Jewish way of life as they become adults. We need to emphasize the rewards of being Jewish.  Relationships with role models who are passionate about their Judaism – rabbis, cantors, teachers, and camp counselors, as well as other important adults in their lives are the best way for our children to form and maintain rich Jewish identities for life.  Many of us baby-boomers grew up with guilt as being the prime motivator of our Judaism – the guilt of betrayal of our ancestors, the guilt of betrayal of the memory of those who perished in the Holocaust – guilt which would hopefully keep us within the Jewish fold. This kind of negative motivation cannot work in today’s world.

We need not, and cannot, “scare” our kids into being Jewish. We can, however, offer them warm relationships with committed Jewish adults, a sense of belonging to a noble and ancient people, and a set of values that will help them to make sense of our complicated lives. If they recognize these blessings of being Jewish, they will surely follow in G-d’s ways.

Shabbat Shalom

Parasha BeHar -- Getting Second Chances

            Last Saturday night, as we left the synagogue following Havdalah, we were greeted by a Full Moon rising above the treetops in the East. To the right of the moon shone the planet Mars, with even its reddish tint visible to the naked eye. Looking up, I was reminded that at the last Full Moon we sat down to our first night Seder. This Full Moon marks the onset of yet another holiday that is mentioned in the Torah. This second Full Moon marks a biblical holiday called Peshach Sheni – the Second Passover.  The Torah relates that on the very first Passover in the Wilderness of Sinai, some men came to Moses and told him that they did not celebrate the Passover. It wasn’t because they did not want to, they explained. It was because they were ritually unclean. Being ritually unclean, they could not eat of the Passover sacrifice. What should they do, they asked Moses?  Moses then inquired of God, and God told him to have the men celebrate Passover a month later. This is the only place in the Torah where, if one misses celebrating a holiday, one gets a second chance a month later!  

            We no longer celebrate this holiday, the Pesach Sheni, or second Passover. Since the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed and the sacrificial mode of worship ceased, we no longer partake of the Passover sacrifice on Passover. Therefore, this Second Passover, this “do-over” Passover, has become an obsolete holiday. The date is still noted on Jewish calendars, and some very observant people have a custom of eating some matzah at a meal on this day, but otherwise there is no observance at all.

            One could say that the Torah portion we read this week, Behar, is a portion about second chances. When the Israelites entered the land of Canaan, the land was divided up according to tribe and according to family. Each family started out on an equal footing. As time goes on, however, some families are bound to prosper and others to decline economically. Perhaps due to bad weather, poor farming techniques, poor decisions, laziness, greed, illness, or just bad luck, some people fall into debt and have to sell the family holding. If you lose your land, not only are you destined to work for someone else for the rest of your life, but your descendents are likely to work for others as well.  Having lost your family inheritance once, you have lost your only access to the means of production forever.

             The institution of the Jubilee year is put forth in this week’s Torah portion to give people, and families, a second chance.  In the Jubilee year, every person or family who lost their land in previous years is allowed to return to it and to reclaim it as their own. This is part of the Torah’s vision of what an ideal society looks at. An ideal society gives people a second chance at prosperity. An ideal society protects its most vulnerable members – the poor, the widow and the orphan – from sinking into hopeless poverty.

            It is not clear whether the Jubilee Year, as prescribed by the Torah, was ever put into practice in the Land of Israel. Did families actually get to return to their land? We do not know. There would certainly be challenges to any society that would try this. It reminds me of a story I heard of the rabbi who returned home excited to tell his wife that he had made a great deal of progress in solving the problem of poverty in his town. That’s so wonderful, said his proud wife. “Yes, I’ve solved half the problem already,” he said. “The poor are ready and willing to take,” he told his wife. “All that’s left to do is to convince the rich that they should be willing to give.”

            The idea of the Jubilee year, which gave families a second chance at owning land, had a practical purpose as well as a spiritual message. The practical purpose was that there should be no permanent underclass in Israelite society. There would not be one group of people that had all of the advantages and could build on them, and another group of disadvantaged people who had no hope of ever prospering. Such a society provides fertile ground for envy and is profoundly unfair. The spiritual message of the Jubilee year is to remind us that, as it says in the Psalms, “G-d owns the earth and all it contains, the world and all who live in it.” Nothing that we own, nothing that we achieve, is really ours.  Everything, ultimately, belongs to God.  This being so, our lives ought to be dedicated to fulfilling G-d’s will on earth. It follows, then, that we all have an obligation to work toward the vision of the ideal society that the Torah lays out. 

The Impossible Mitzvah -- A Belated Sermon for Mother's Day

Legend has it that Ernest Hemingway was bet that he could not write a novel in just six words. He wrote, “For sale, baby shoes, never worn.”  Larry Smith, a journalist, published a book called, OY, Only Six? Why not More? Six Word Memoirs on Jewish Life.”  In that book, which contains 360 personal takes on Jewish life, no subject is more popular than Mom. Here are five six word statements that describe the Jewish mother: —

Olivia Bercow, age 21, Miami Beach, about her mother Julie Bercow                                        

You met a boy? Jewish , right?

 Bob Wolf,  age 62, Chappaqua, N.Y., about his mother Annette Wolf

She’s older. Now I’m the worrier.

Edgar Weinstock,  age 71, Brooklyn, about his mother Libby Weinstock

You shtopt my soul with character.

Karyn Gershon, 51, Wilmette, Ill., about her mother Gloria Grossman

Unconditional love but hates my outfit.

 Ari VanderWalde, age  35, Los Angeles, about his mother Joan VanderWalde

Strong, independent rethinker of tuna casserole.

Last Sunday was Mother’s Day. Of course, every day should be "Mother’s Day". As we know, the Fifth Commandment states that we should “Honor our Father and our Mother”. This commandment is also found in this week’s Torah portion, as part of what is called the “Holiness Code”. Here it states that we should “revere” our Mother and Father. The Talmud takes up the question of the meaning of honoring and revering one’s mother.  As we know meanings are often up to interpretations. For example, Rabbi Tarfon, who lived in the period just following the destruction of the Second Temple, thought he was an exemplary son.  Whenever his mother wished to get into her bed, Rabbi Tarfon would get on his hands and knees and allow his mother to step onto his back to climb into bed. Just imagine! Whenever she wished to get out of bed, he would get on his hands and knees and let her use his back as a step down. Rabbi Tarfon boasted to his colleagues at the House of Study about the way he honored his mother. His fellows were not impressed. "You have not yet reached the honor due her," they said. "Has she thrown her money into the sea without your getting angry at her?" Others said to him, "If you had done a thousand times more for her, you still would not have done half the honor due her that the Torah prescribes."

In other words, fulfilling this commandment to honor ones mother is a very tall order and maybe even impossible to do. Billy Collins, Poet Laureate of the United States in 2000, writes about the time in his life when he was quite certain he had accomplished the impossible in this poem, “The Lanyard”.  One day, writes the poet, he comes by accident across a word in the dictionary – “Lanyard” --

.......... No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly-
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that's what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-clothes on my forehead,
and then led me out into the air light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift - not the worn truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-toned lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

Billy Collins is saying that, it is a cliché that you can never repay your mother, a “worn truth” as he calls it. As we say in “Jewish”, there’s no “chiddush” there, no new insight or thought. Your mother gave birth to you, fed you, cleaned up after you, took care of you when you were sick, protected you, clothed you, educated you. Of course you can never repay her! Yet, when, as a boy he gave his mother the arts and crafts project he made at camp, he was as certain that he had, in fact, accomplished the impossible task, fulfilled the awesome mitzvah, of honoring his mother. Only as an adult, looking back, could he understand the naiveté and innocence of his thinking. That insight is his small gift to his mother.

We all, like the sages teach, fall short of fulfilling the Biblical commandment to honor our mothers. Yet Maimonides warns that parents should not be overly demanding of their children in this respect.  A mother, he writes, should just shut her eyes and hold her peace if her child fails to honor her adequately.

It comes to a matter of balance. Children have the duty to be respectful to their parents and honor them each and every day, in whatever way they are able. Parents, in turn, should temper their disappointment should what they consider the proper show of love and respect not materialize. The most important thing is to strive for harmonious relations between a mother and her children.

Shabbat Shalom

Parasha Tazria -- Getting Along with Your Brother or Sister

[The following sermon was written with our third graders, who participated in our Friday night services, in mind.] 

I don’t know how many of our students in the third grade know who Sonia Sotomayor is. Sonia Sotomayor is the first Hispanic Judge appointed to the United States Supreme Court. She was appointed in 2009 by President Obama. As you know the Supreme Court of our nation consists of nine judges, all of whom are extremely important to our country.  Supreme Court Justice Sotomayor grew up in a large Puerto Rican family in New York City. In fact I am reading a book about her life that she wrote in 2013 titled My Beloved World. In her book, she writes about her relationship with her brother, who is three years younger than she is. He is a doctor now, but when they were growing up, like a lot of brothers and sisters they fought a lot. Like a lot of big sisters, she thought that her little brother, who she calls “Junior”, was somewhat of a pest. He followed her around the house, imitated her every gesture, and interfered in every conversation. Once, when he was about two, she led him out of their apartment into the hallway and shut the door. Much later her mother found him sitting where she had left him, sucking his thumb. Was her mom mad!!!!

But that was at home. At school, however she watched out for her little brother. If someone would pick on him, that person would have to deal with his older sister!  She writes, “If I got beat up on Junior’s account, I would settle things with him later, but no one was going to lay a hand upon him except me!”

I am sure that I don’t have to tell you that --- even though they love each other deep down, sometimes brothers and sisters don’t get along -- or brothers and brothers or sisters and sisters, for that matter. Sometimes they fight. Many a bar and bat mitzvah student have thanked their brother or sister in their speech with a “left handed compliment”. A “left handed compliment” is a way of praising someone while at the same time “dissing” them. For example – “I want to thank my little brother for being only a little annoying’ when I was studying for my bat mitzvah”. That is a “left handed compliment”.

The Torah is full of stories of brothers who do not get along. The first story about brothers not getting along is the story of Cain and Abel.  Sarah doesn’t like how Ishmael and Isaac are playing together. Jacob and Esau do not get along at all. Joseph’s brothers wanted to get rid of him so badly they didn’t just lead him into the hallway and shut the door. The sell him into slavery!  It is not until we get to the Book of Exodus, and the story of Moses, that we find brothers and sisters who get along and help each other. Moses’ older sister Miriam saves his life by putting him in a basket in the Nile River. Moses’ brother, Aaron, helps him confront Pharaoh and speaks to the Israelites on his behalf. The brothers and sisters all seem to get along in that family.

Even brothers and sisters, regardless of their ages, who get along sometimes have their disagreements. Later on in the Torah, Aaron and Miriam grow jealous of Moses and they criticize him. Moses is too humble to defend himself. However, G-d gets angry and speaks to them, saying, “How dare you speak against my servant Moses?” G-d punishes Miriam by giving her “tsaraat”, a disease that turns her skin all white. We read about Tsaraat in the Torah for the first time this week.

As soon as Moses sees Miriam suffering from Tsaraat, he prays to G-d to heal her. He doesn’t hold a grudge and he does not hesitate. “El nah, re-fah nah lah” – please G-d, heal her please, he prays. I imagine Moses felt a lot like Sonia Sotomayor felt with her brother – nobody is going to lay a hand on her but me!

I conclude with a note of consolation for all the parents and grandparents who worry about brothers and sisters fighting. According to University of Illinois psychologist Laurie Kramer, there is nothing better for children than to learn about fighting by doing so with someone who is still going to be your brother or sister the next day.  Why is that?  Because, often these are safe relationships where children experiment and develop skills and even try out some things that may not be acceptable in other types of relationships. In this way children develop social and emotional competencies that they will use in managing other relationships in their lives, both in the present and as they grow older. I am sure those skills have been put to good use by Sonia Sotomayor as she goes about her work as a Justice in an often contentious Supreme Court of the United States.

  Shabbat Shalom