The Space Between

(Dvar Torah given on Shabbat Terumah, Friday evening 2/24/12)

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וְהָי֣וּ הַכְּרֻבִים֩ פֹּֽרְשֵׂ֨י כְנָפַ֜יִם לְמַ֗עְלָה סֹֽכְכִ֤ים בְּכַנְפֵיהֶם֙ עַל־הַכַּפֹּ֔רֶת וּפְנֵיהֶ֖ם אִ֣ישׁ אֶל־אָחִ֑יו אֶ֨ל־הַכַּפֹּ֔רֶת יִֽהְי֖וּ פְּנֵ֥י הַכְּרֻבִֽים׃

And the cherubim shall spread out their wings on high, screening the ark-cover with their wings, with their faces one to another; toward the ark-cover shall the faces of the cherubim be.

(Ex. 25:20)

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I have always found it difficult to look people in the eyes --- whether it’s at a job interview, or in a deep conversation with a friend or loved one, or during a pastoral visit with a congregant.  I will myself to do it as long as I can, but it’s uncomfortable for me.  Maybe it’s just because of my vision problems – I’ve worn glasses since I was two years old, had a couple of eye operations as a kid, and I don’t have stereo vision  -- so I’m constantly switching off between using my left eye and my right eye. 

However, I suspect that even if I had perfectly healthy 20-20 vision, I’d still find it difficult.  There is something so intense about staring into someone’s eyes.  It’s like looking at the sun.   In fact,  when I really want to hear what someone is saying,  I do it best by trying to push aside visual distractions,  just as when we cover our eyes in order to aid in hearing and internalizing our declaration of faith:

שְׁמַע, יִשְׂרָאֵל: ה' אֱלֹהֵינוּ, ה' אֶחָד

"Hear O Israel, Adonai is our God, Adonai is One."

But the idea of being “panim el panim”/ “face to face” remains as a paradigmatic example of communication, of connection, of true meeting.  And so God, in this week’s Torah portion, Terumah, instructs that two cherubim  -- two golden angelic figures  --- be sculpted so as to protrude out of the top of the golden cover of the ark containing the Ten Commandments.  In the medieval Jewish commentaries, the two cherubs are described as having the faces of a boy and a girl, and wings like birds – and they are compared to the angels seen in Isaiah’s vision of God’s throne and Ezekiel’s vision of the Chariot.

Parshat Terumah as a whole (Exodus 25:1 - 27:19), among some thirteen of the remaining chapters of the Book of Exodus, is devoted the details of the mishkan, or portable tabernacle, that is to accompany the people through all their journeys.  Tradition sees it as the precursor of the Temple that would be built centuries later in Jerusalem under the reign of King Solomon.  In what is probably the most well-known verse of our parasha, Exodus 25:8, God declares:

 וְעָשׂוּ לִי מִקְדָּשׁ; וְשָׁכַנְתִּי בְּתוֹכָם 

("v'asu li mikdash v'shachanti betocham")

“They shall make for me a sanctuary and I shall dwell within them.”  Not, as we might expect – ”btocho”/ within it (i.e. within the sanctuary), but rather “btocham” -- within or among them.  The actions of the people in building the mishkan and fabricating its contents bring them together in holy community.  Although God is everywhere, the community building project helps the people to be better able to experience God’s presence. 

And within that sanctuary, Torah teaches that God will most palpably be found in the space between the two cherubs – those two humanlike figures of which it says:

וּפְנֵיהֶם, אִישׁ אֶל-אָחִיו

("ufeneyhem, ish el achiv")

“Their faces – one towards another.”  And so it is with us, that when we truly face one another, to quote Buber, “we feel the pulse of Eternity.” 

But those cherubim, while facing one another, at the same time turn slightly downward toward the cover of the ark that houses the stone tablets, as the verse concludes:

אֶל-הַכַּפֹּרֶת--יִהְיוּ, פְּנֵי הַכְּרֻבִים

("el hakaporet yiheyu pney ha-keruvim")

"towards the ark-cover shall the faces of the cherubs be."

And so it is with us:  We strive for the blinding intensity of relationship, yet also  avert our gazes so that we can try to understand it all, to place it into some meaningful context.  

But God is to be found in the space between us when we see and hear one another.

Could we really achieve such a level of sensitivity?  

We’re having a lot of conversations in Duluth these days about recognizing our common humanity with our neighbor  --- and about how racism can hinder such recognition. 

And we’re having a lot of conversations in our State about recognizing our common humanity with our fellow Minnesotans and about how homophobia and heterosexism can hinder such recognition.  

And, each day, in every interaction we have with one another, we strive to face one another, to hear one another, to understand one another – because such meeting is when God can truly be found and experienced.

Of course, we can’t reach that pinnacle all the time.  We often just “go through the motions.” 

But the memory of each such meeting lives within us, and sustains us for the meetings to come.

Shabbat shalom.

© Rabbi David Steinberg, 2012/5772

New Jersey colleagues of whom I am very proud

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Ox7s3J0QLI&feature=email

Rabbi's report delivered to Temple Israel 2011/5772 Annual Meeting

Dear Temple members,

It continues to be a wonderful experience for me to serve as your Rabbi.  Now that I’m into my second year at Temple Israel, I’ve come farther along in getting to know, or at least making the acquaintance of, almost everyone in our Temple community.  I plan to continue to do my best to deepen and expand these relationships in the months and years to come.

Since our last annual meeting, I’ve led or participated in a number of life cycle events for Temple members, their families, and other folks in the local Jewish community including baby namings , a pidyon haben,  weddings,  conversions and  funerals.  Sadly, the latter type of life cycle event has been the most numerous.  However, I’ve also in the past year had the privilege of working with three of our teens as they were confirmed at Shavuot, the holiday known in our tradition as “Zeman Matan Torateynu” (“The Season of the Giving of the Torah”) and welcoming two new students with consecration at Simchat Torah, when our yearly Torah reading cycle starts anew.  In the meanwhile, I continue to teach, from the Bima, in Torah study group, in Hebrew school and in Adult Education.  And I’m particularly happy to be starting to engage in the Bar/Bat Mitzvah preparation process with a new group of prospective 2013 Bnai Mitzvah and with a new group of confirmation students starting a two-year preparation towards confirmation in 2013.  In all of these endeavors, Andrea Buck has been a great professional partner with her excellent work as Youth Education Director.

In the past year I’ve been involved in numerous community events and meetings with individuals and groups seeking to learn about Judaism and the Jewish community, representing our congregation at such events as the City of Duluth’s September 11^th program, the interfaith Thanksgiving service and the CHUM holiday concert.   I’m especially happy that we’ve been able this year to deepen our congregation’s connections with Habitat for Humanity and with the Islamic Center of the Twin Ports, to name just a couple of initiatives.

In general, I have been feeling increasingly at home at Temple Israel and in Duluth, especially after the wonderfully warm installation I experienced here in May, and especially since my partner Peter was finally able to finish his own relocation to Duluth in August. 

This was my first year that I was able to begin really putting my stamp on how we conduct our High Holiday services.  As usual, Mike Grossman and the High Holiday committee did spectacular work, and I’m pleased that our new machzor (generously funded by the Lurye/Kuretsky  family) was such a hit.  And, as I’ve mentioned in recent Bulletin articles, the violin playing and choral conducting of Erin Aldridge, and the participation of the Temple Choir, at High Holidays were beautiful and inspiring.  Also on the ritual front, I’m so grateful to Temple Israel’s talented rabbinic aides, Gary Gordon, Linda Eason and Chris King, who have stepped in to assist with life cycle, service leading and pastoral tasks when I have been out of town for conferences or vacation.  In addition, Deborah Petersen Perlman, Trevor Swoverland, Maureen O’Brien, Sheryl Grana, Mark Weitz and Ben Yokel have also led services or Torah study in my absence and I’m grateful to them as well.  And Danny Frank and Casey Goldberg have been great musical partners in services throughout the year.  ( I’d also like to thank Danny for his musical accompaniment at the CHUM holiday concert last week.)

My priorities continue to be to serve the spiritual needs of the members of our congregation, to teach and represent Jewish culture and tradition within our congregation and in the wider community, and to work with all of you to further our people’s quest for Tikkun Olam  (“repair of the world”).

Through all this, it has been a particular pleasure to work with such dedicated and mentshlikh people as those who serve on our Temple staff:  Andrea Buck, Carrie Kayes, Pauline Russell, Marko Jukic , Marjeanne Tehven, and Dori and Ben Streit.  And it’s a joy to work with such capable and committed lay leadership at both the Board and Committee levels, led by our wonderful Temple president Neil Glazman.  Neil and I are off to Washington, DC next week for the Union for Reform Judaism biennial and I know we both look forward to connecting with Reform Jews from around North America and to reporting back to all of you about what we learn there.

Finally, I would like to thank our outgoing Board members, Ethan Kayes and David Siegler for all of their generous commitments of time and energy.  And welcome and best of luck to our incoming board members Danny Frank and Theresa Neo.   

May they and all of us go from strength to strength in the coming year.

L’shalom,

Rabbi David Steinberg

"Occupying" Shabbat

I really like this dvar torah that I encountered this morning.  You don't have to be Orthodox in your practice or theology in order to find meaning in this (at least that's my reaction to it).

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi David

http://noamdolgin.blogspot.com/2011/11/why-we-occupy-shabbat.html

Simchat Torah and Consecration - An article from the Union for Reform Judaism

[The following article was published this week as part of the URJ's "Ten Minutes of Torah" listserve.  If you would like to sign up to receive articles like this, please visit http://urj.org/learning/torah/ten/ .  And mazal tov to the children in our congregation who are being consecrated at our Simchat Torah service this evening.]  

What is Consecration? What is its connection to Reform Judaism?
by Barry Shainker

How many of us actually remember our own Consecration service? We were young, probably overwhelmed, and most likely unsure of the event’s significance. Aside from some paper flags, an uncomfortable clip-on tie, and a bunch of kids making a mad dash from the sanctuary to the social hall for cookies, today the only real memory I have of my Consecration is the picture which now hangs alongside the many others in the temple. But the meaning of the event is something that I have acquired over time. Looking back, I know that my Consecration began a lifelong experience of Jewish learning.

Consecration is a uniquely Reform event. According to historian Michael Meyer, the ceremony can be attributed to Rabbi David Einhorn, one of the early leading figures during Reform’s creation in Germany and later in the United States. Rabbi Einhorn was a proponent of placing spirituality over halachah (Jewish law), and so he suggested replacing circumcision with a consecration ritual as the opening event that would confirm a young boy’s life in the Jewish community.^1 2

The ceremony of Consecration marks the beginning on one’s Jewish learning, usually between the ages of 5 and 8, within an organized setting, for example a congregational religious school. When young people begin their study of Judaism, they are honored before the community as a new student and often presented with a certificate marking the occasion and gifts like miniature Torah scrolls. Many congregations will add other rituals to the ceremony such as a special blessing or a recitation of the Sh’ma.

Consecration services often take place at the end of the High Holiday season, usually as part of the congregation’s celebration for the holiday of Simchat Torah, meaning ‘joy or celebration of the Torah.’ The word “consecrate” in religious circles means an association with something holy, and throughout our tradition Jewish learning is considered a sacred task. What an appropriate time, then, to celebrate this milestone in a young person’s life. As the entire synagogue community joins in the hakafah (processional of the Torah) and Torah scrolls are unrolled for all to see, new students see the importance and centrality of this ancient and holy sourcebook. They also have the opportunity to see Judaism as a tradition that is interactive, celebratory, and engaging.

A textual basis for Consecration’s placement on this day might come from a custom of calling all in the community to hear the Torah on Sukkot, which is itself based on Deuteronomy 31:12.³ The text reads as God’s instructions to Moses: Gather the people – men, women, children, and the strangers in your communities – that they may hear and so learn to revere Adonai your God and to observe faithfully every word of this Teaching.”⁴

While the overwhelming majority of synagogues follow this practice, a handful in our movement do not. Some see Consecration as a statement of dedication and therefore recognize their new students on Chanukah, one of most triumphant stories of renewal and survival in the history of the Jewish people. Others look to Shavuot, the spring holiday in which we celebrate Matan Torah, the giving of the Torah to the Jewish people at Sinai, and draw a direct parallel between the start of one’s Jewish education at Consecration and the reaffirmation of it as a young adult at Confirmation.

While most of our young people cannot fully comprehend the magnitude of this milestone, we hope that they will look back on the occasion in the years that follow with a new understanding. Consecration, like so many other rituals in our tradition, is about coming together to as a community to welcome new students and new families. Wherever the ceremony is celebrated on the calendar, we affirm our commitment and dedication to educating our young people in Jewish tradition. And, as we see the hope and spirit in our young people, we renew in ourselves a passion for Jewish learning that we hope to transmit to our children. 

Barry Shainker is currently an Education student at HUC-JIR in New York. He is also Educational Intern at Temple Sinai in Roslyn, NY. 

¹ Meyer, Michael A. Response to Modernity: A History of the Reform Movement in Judaism. Oxford UP: New York, 1999. p. 163 

² At the time, only young boys were recognized with a bris ritual, Consecration, Bar Mitzvah, or any other sort of ceremony. Similar services for girls would only be instituted years later, as the women’s liberation movement gained acceptance in Reform.

³ Knobel, Peter S. ed. Gates of the Seasons: A Guide to the Jewish Year. CCAR Press: New York, 1983. p. 135. 

⁴ Translation from JPS Tanakh, 1999 ed.

YOM KIPPUR MORNING SERMON 5772/2011

ועל כל יושבי תבל/ Ve’al Kawl Yoshvey Tevel/ For All Who Dwell on Earth

Back on the first evening of Rosh Hashanah, I shared with you that I’d be speaking over the High Holidays about each of the three “concentric circles of our aspirations.”   “Concentric circles of our aspirations” --- That’s Rabbi David Teutsch’s description for how at the end of the full Kaddish we pray to “Oseh Shalom Bimromav” to “The One who makes peace in the heavens”  -- that there be  Shalom “aleinu,” for us / “v’al kol yisra’el,”  and for all Israel/ “ ve’al kol yoshvei tevel, “ and for all who dwell on earth. 

Let me refresh our memories by reading Rabbi Teutsch’s teaching in its entirety.  He writes:

Adding the rabbinic phrase “ve’al kol yoshvey tevel” (and for all who dwell on earth) logically completes the concentric circles of our aspirations – our care starts with our minyan, extends to the entire Jewish people, and radiates outward from there to all who share our planet.”

Kol Haneshama: Shabbat Vehagim (Reconstructionist Press, 1995, p. 114)

On the first night of Rosh Hashanah last week, we went on to focus on our hopes and prayers for shalom “aleinu” – for us, for our families, for our congregation here at Temple Israel.

On the morning of the 1^st day of Rosh Hashanah, we focused on the second of those three concentric circles – our hopes and prayers for shalom “al kol yisra’el” – “for all Israel.”  -- both for Medinat Yisra’el/ The State of Israel and or Ahm Yisrael/The Jewish people worldwide.

Today, as we observe Yom Kippur together, we reach the third circle – the wider circle of “al Yoshvei Tevel” --- our hopes and prayers for Shalom “for all the inhabitants of the world.”

In this morning’s Torah reading we encountered another expression of “concentric circles of aspiration”  as we read of the elaborate rituals of “kippur”/ atonement undertaken by Aaron, the first Kohen Gadol, to restore ritual purity to the Sanctuary on Yom Kippur.

First --  וְכִפֶּר בַּעֲדוֹ, וּבְעַד בֵּיתוֹ – “He would seek atonement for himself and for his household.” (Lev. 16:6).  Second --  וְכִפֶּר בַּעֲדוֹ וּבְעַד בֵּיתוֹ, וּבְעַד כָּל-קְהַל יִשְׂרָאֵל. – “He would seek atonement for himself and for his household and for the entire congregation of Israel.” (Lev. 16:17).  At first glance, there doesn’t seem to be any third circle of care for humanity beyond the Jewish people.  Nowhere does it say in Leviticus 16 anything like Vekhiper ba’ado, uv’ad beyto, uv’ad kawl kehal yisrael, uv’ad kawl yoshvei tevel…  No command that he seek atonement for “himself and for his household and for the entire congregation of Israel and for all who dwell on earth.”

But if we look slightly beyond Yom Kippur on the religious calendar, we can find that concern for the wider world and its inhabitants.  For Torah teaches us that the ancient purification and renewal of the sanctuary on Yom Kippur was, at its essence,  a preparation for the major festival of the year which would begin just five days later.  I refer of course to Sukkot, sometimes referred to in biblical and rabbinic tradition simply as “Hechag”  -- “The Festival” – par excellence. 

And it was on Chag Hasukkot in the days of the mishkan and the first and second temples, that the sacrificial offerings brought by our ancestors would include seventy bulls, far more than on any other festival of the year (see Num. 29: 13-34).  And, in the Talmud in Masechet Sukkah, we learn:

הני שבעים פרים כנגד מי? כנגד שבעים אומות.

“These seventy bulls, to what do they correspond?  To the seventy nations [of the world].”  (B.T. Sukkah 55b)  (Seventy being the traditional understanding of how many nations there were in the ancient world, based on the listing of nations in Genesis chapter 10.)

And rabbinic tradition teaches that during Sukkot, not only are the offerings made on behalf of all the nations of the world, but the world itself is judged as whether there will be adequate water, as we learn in the Mishnah, in tractate Rosh Hashanah ---

א,ב בארבעה פרקים העולם נידון: בפסח, על התבואה. בעצרת, על פירות האילן. בראש השנה, כל באי עולם עוברין לפניו כבני מרון, […]ובחג, נידונים על המים.

“The world is judged at four periods in the year; on Passover for grain; on Shavuot for the fruits of trees, on Rosh Hashanah, all the inhabitants of the world pass before [God] like flocks of sheep […] and on Sukkot they are judged for water. (M. Rosh Hashanah 1:2).”

These traditional teachings remind us that the welfare of “umot ha’olam” – “the nations of the world” is dependent on the welfare of “ha’olam”/ “the world itself.”  That the fate of “kol yoshvei tevel”/ “all the inhabitants of  the earth” is dependent on the welfare of “tevel” / “Earth”  itself.

Many have compared the world to Noah’s ark  -- the world floats in space and gives us a safe home, just as the ark floated through the flood.  And the early Chasidic master Reb Nachman of Bratzlav compared the world to “gesher tzar me’od”  (“a very narrow bridge”) ---  

כל העולם כולו גשר צר מאוד והעיקר, והעיקר לא לפחד, לא לפחד כלל.

Kol ha-olam kulo gesher tzar m'od
Gesher tzar m'od
Gesher tzar m'od
Kol ha-olam kulo gesher tzar m'od
gesher tzar m'od
V'ha-ikar V'ha-ikar
Lo l'fachayd, lo l'fachayd klal

(“The world is a very narrow bridge and the most important part is
not to be afraid.”)

You may be familiar with the popular musical setting of his evocative teaching: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5tNKaLbcF0&feature=related

And Torah commentators through the ages have seen God’s command to build the mishkan as the human counterpart, as it were, to God’s creation of the world. 

So, as for this ark, this very narrow bridge, this sacred dwelling place, this world ----    Psalm 24, verse 1 tells us --- ל"ה הָאָרֶץ וּמְלוֹאָהּ; תֵּבֵל, וְיֹשְׁבֵי בָהּ.  “L’adonai ha’aretz u’meloah, tevel v’yoshvei vah”/ “The world belongs to Adonai in all its fullness, the earth and all who dwell on it.” And our task, just as it was in the Garden of Eden for Adam and Eve is לְעָבְדָהּ וּלְשָׁמְרָהּ “l’awvdah u’leshomarah” / “to till it and to tend it.” (Gen. 2:16).

As the midrash in Ecclesiastes Rabbah puts it:  “When God created the first human beings, God led them around the Garden of Eden and said:  ‘Look at my works!  See how beautiful they are – how excellent!  For your sake I created them all.  See to it that you do not spoil and destroy My world; for if you do, there will be no one else to repair it.”

We all know that the well-being of our world has become an increasing concern in recent years – For me, it all really hit home back in June 2002 when I faced this front page headline in the New York Times:

“Alaska, No Longer So Frigid, Starts to Crack, Burn and Sag.”  The article’s lead paragraph, by Times reporter Timothy Egan, began:

“To live in Alaska when the average temperature has risen about seven degrees over the last 30 years means learning to cope with a landscape that can sink, catch fire or break apart in the turn of a season.  In the village of Shishmaref, on the Chukchi Sea, just south of the Arctic Circle, it means high water eating away so many houses and buildings that people will vote next month on moving the entire village inland.”

The other day I googled “Shishmaref” and found a follow-up article in the Times from 2006 by reporter Elizabeth Colbert.  She had gone to Shishmaref, where reporter Timothy Egan had visited four years earlier.  The villagers had in fact voted to move their village inland, but hadn’t yet finalized the new location.  In Colbert’s article, “Field Notes from a Catastrophe” (published March 12, 2006), there is this ominous passage:

"In the same way that global warming has gradually ceased to be merely a theory, so, too, its impacts are no longer just hypothetical. Nearly every major glacier in the world is shrinking; those in Glacier National Park are retreating so quickly it has been estimated that they will vanish entirely by 2030. The oceans are becoming not just warmer but more acidic; the difference between daytime and nighttime temperatures is diminishing; animals are shifting their ranges poleward; and plants are blooming days, and in some cases weeks, earlier than they used to. These are the warning signs that the Charney panel (which had met and issued a report in 1979 at the behest of then-President Jimmy Carter] cautioned against waiting for, and while in many parts of the globe they are still subtle enough to be overlooked, in others they can no longer be ignored. As it happens, the most dramatic changes are occurring in those places, like Shishmaref, where the fewest people tend to live. This disproportionate effect of global warming in the far north was also predicted by early climate models, which forecast, in column after column of FORTRAN-generated figures, what today can be measured and observed directly: the Arctic is melting."

I won’t go on at great lengths with any parade of horribles about the health of our global environment .  Jonah proclaims to the great city of Nineveh – “Another forty days and Nineveh is overthrown”  -- For ourselves, we’re probably okay for forty days, but, within the next century scientists tell us that we’re in for significantly worsening environmental conditions.  Our actions – individually and on the national and international level – could determine how much worse things may get for life on earth.

We should not despair.  After all, Rabbi Nachman’s teaching “Kol Ha’olam Gesher Tzar me’od”  -- “The world is a very narrow bridge” – continues with the admonition “Veha’ikar lo lefached klal” – “But the main thing Is not to be afraid at all.

But we SHOULD try to be part of the solution, rather than being part of the problem.  We should think small and think big –  Trying to do what we can individually and locally, but also reaching out to our political leaders to urge them to pursue responsible environmental policies. 

So, what CAN we do as individuals and as a congregation to fulfill the mitzvah of protecting God’s handiwork?  The first step is simply to raise our consciousness about what we are doing in life.  Indeed, one might assert that that is the very essence of what Judaism is all about – to live our lives consciously, reflectively, deliberately – and not as automatons.

That’s what we do when we pause to say a berachah before we eat anything – and when we pause again to say birkat hamazon when we are through.  In punctuating our daily lives with berachot/blessings, we force ourselves to be conscious and appreciative of the wonders of creation, and of the ways in which we interact with that creation.

In dealing with environmental concerns, what we need to do is not really all that different.  We also need to pause, to reflect, to be conscious of, and to appreciate what we are doing, in order to increase our awareness of how our actions affect the environment. 

Here at Temple, our Greening Committee has prodded us to use washable dishes and cutlery for our meals, and at least to use compostables at other times.  And we are composting our food scraps, following upon a project started last year by Hannah W. for her Bat Mitzvah. 

Perhaps you, yourself, might even consider joining the Greening Committee here at Temple Israel if you have other ideas to share.

In our personal lives, when we go shopping – whether for food, or clothing, or household appliances or for cars – we can ask ourselves:

• Do I really need this?
• Do I really want this?
• How will my purchase and use of this product affect the environment? 
• We could strive to better conserve water and power.       
• We could turn down the thermostat by 2 degrees in winter.
• Thankfully, here in Duluth most of us don't even need air conditioning in the summer, but, if we do have AC, we could turn our thermostats UP by 2 degrees in summer.

Our efforts at leading more environmentally conscious lives could involve steps as simple as “bundling errands” in the car – or walking or biking or carpooling or using mass transit when we can.  And simply turning off lights when we leave a room. 

We could reduce our consumption of meat, since the raising of livestock uses up land and feed that could much more efficiently be used for crops that could feed many who are hungry.  We could resolve that the next motor vehicle we purchase will be more energy efficient that the one we are driving now.  

In short, we could try during this season of cheshbon hanefesh/ Inventory of the soul – and indeed throughout the year to come – to engage as well in a cheshbon/inventory of our consumption and use patterns.

And, of course, I’m no paradigm of virtue myself.  I definitely include myself in all of this.  In the words of the Yom Kippur penitential prayers, “Ashamnu, Bagadnu, Gazalnu”/  “We have trespassed.  We have dealt treacherously.  We have rebelled…”–   We’re all needing of confession and teshuvah in the ways in which we treat the environment.

And on the national level as well, we need to make sure that politicians don’t use the excuse of economic concerns --- even in an economy as miserable as it is right now – to ignore equally important environmental concerns.  These are only conflicting concerns if we fail to think broadly.  For environmental degradation itself has economic costs.

One national issue that is rapidly growing more prominent in recent days and weeks is the debate over construction of the Keystone XL pipeline.  This proposed pipeline would transport crude from the Tar Oil Sands of northern Alberta through the central United States in what many are concerned would be a very dangerous manner that would increase greenhouse gasses greatly and jeopardize an important fresh water aquifer and natural habitat in South Dakota and Nebraska.  I won’t pretend to be an expert but I encourage you to be on the lookout for stories in coming days on the Keystone XL pipeline and to form your own opinions about it.

Indeed, another story about questions concerning the Keystone XL pipeline can be found in today’s New York Times, on page A-11, in an article entitled “Pipeline Review is Faced With Question of Conflict:  State Department Assigned Environmental Study to Company with Ties to Project Sponsor.” (NY Times 10/8/2011, p. A-11) [Here’s a link to the internet version of the article:  http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/08/science/earth/08pipeline.html?_r=1&scp=3&sq=keystone%20xl%20pipeline&st=cse ]

Let’s conclude on a note of prayer, but may our prayers inspire us to action:  Oseh Shalom Bimromav, hu ya’aseh shalom aleinu, v’al kol yisra’el – v’al kawl yoshvei tevel --- May the one who makes peace in the heavens, make peace for us, for all Israel and ---- LAST BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST – for all who dwell on this one and only world that we have to call our own – or, more accurately – this one and only world that we have been blessed with the possibility of calling home, this one and only world which we are commanded to care for and preserve. 

Kol Ha’olam Kulo Gesher Tzar Me’od, v’ha ikar – lo lefached klal.  This whole world is a very narrow bridge, but the main thing is not to be afraid at all. 

גמר חתימה טובה וצום קל (Gmar chatimah tovah v’tzom kal) /  a good sealing and an easy fast to one and all  -- and Shabbat Shalom.

(c) Rabbi David Steinberg 5772/2011

Yom Kippur Evening (Kol Nidre) Sermon 5772/2011

Stuff (sermon for Kol Nidre/ Yom Kippur Eve 5772/2011)

Tonight I thought I would talk about חומר / chomer.  “Chomer” is a very evocative Hebrew word that can be translated in a number of ways.  Among the possible English synonyms are:  “clay,” “stuff,” “matter,” or “material.”  Related words include “chumra” (“stringency”), “chomra” (“hardware”), and “chomranut” (“materialism”).

I’m sure you remember the chorus of the song that Madonna recorded back in the mid-1980’s and that made her a star  – “We are living in a material world, and I am a material girl”  

I guess if Madonna or anyone else ever recorded it in Hebrew, that chorus would go something like ---

אנחנו גרים בעולם חומרני, ואני ילדה חומרנית;

אנחנו גרים בעולם חומרני, ואני ילדה חומרנית.

(Anachnu garim b’olam chomrani, va’ani yaldah chomranit,

Anachnu garim b’olam chomrani, va’ani yaldah chomranit…)

Whenever anyone composes a dvar torah or sermon, the Torah verse or classical text commented upon is called חומר לדרוש (chomer lidrosh) – which is to say, “chomer” out of which we make a “midrash.”

My חומר לדרוש (chomer lidrosh) for tonight is itself about chomer.  For we read in the Yom Kippur liturgy  -- actually we all sang this just a few minutes ago as well:

Ki hiney ka-chomer b’yad ha-yotzer,

Birtzoto marchiv

Uvirtzoto m’katzer.

Keyn anachnu v’yadekha, chesed notzeyr,

Labrit habeyt, v’al teyfen layetzer.

Our new machzor, On Wings of Awe, on p. 298, translates these words of medieval Hebrew poetry as follows:

“Like clay (“chomer”) in the hand of the sculptor.

At whose will it can stretch or contract,

So are we in Your hand,

Whose love for us shapes every act.

Look to the Covenant, turn away from our sin

Actually, there is a neat wordplay in the Hebrew that doesn’t come across in this English translation:  The word “yotzer” (יוצר) is translated here as sculptor, or, in many older translations, as “potter”.  But the literal meaning of “yotzer” is “creator” or “form-er” [in the sense of “one who forms something” not in the sense of “previous”].”  The first prayer after the Barechu/Call to Prayer in the daily shacharit liturgy praises God, in words taken from Isaiah 45:7 as יוֹצֵר אוֹר וּבוֹרֵא חֹשֶׁךְ   “Yotzer Or u’vorey choshekh,” (“the One who forms light and creates darkness”).

And the phrase “v’al tefen layetzer” – which our machzor renders as “turn away from our sin” – literally means “don’t face our yetzer.”  “Yetzer” (יצר) refers to a drive or impulse that is inherent in being alive. Jewish tradition teaches that each of has a “yetzer ha-tov” (“a good inclination”) and a “yetzer hara” (“an evil inclination”) within us, but that both are part of what it means to be human.  So, the piyyut is implicitly making the connection right from the start between “hayotzer” – God, the creator, the sculptor, the potter, the artist and “hayetzer”  -- the impulse or inclination that can lead us to sin, but that can also be redirected and brought around to serve the holy, as is taught in a classic midrash from the (5^th century?) collection Bereshit Rabba: 

“Nahman said in R. Samuel's name: BEHOLD, IT WAS VERY GOOD וְהִנֵּה-טוֹב מְאֹד   (Gen. 1:31) refers to the yetzer hatov (the impulse for good); and BEHOLD, IT WAS VERY GOOD, [also refers] to the yetzer hara (the impulse for evil).  Can then the yetzer hara be very good? That would be extraordinary! But were it not for the yetzer hara, however, no one would build a house, marry and beget children; and thus said Solomon (in Ecclesiastes 4:4) “Again, I considered all labor and all excelling in work, that it is a person's rivalry with their neighbor”  (Bereshit Rabba 9:7)

I think this is an important Jewish concept when we consider the general topic of sin.  We don’t accomplish anything and we’re not being true to ourselves if we simply try to repress and deny natural drives in ourselves that lead us to sinful behavior or impure thought.  Rather, the challenge is to refocus those drives, to rechannel them so that we harness that energy to good and productive purposes.

Returning to the 12^th century piyyut “ki hiney kachomer”  it is generally thought that these anonymous words in our machzor were inspired by the words of Jeremiah 18: 3-6  -

ג וָאֵרֵד, בֵּית הַיּוֹצֵר; והנהו (וְהִנֵּה-הוּא) עֹשֶׂה מְלָאכָה, עַל-הָאָבְנָיִם.	3 Then I went down to the potter's house, and, behold, he was at his work on the wheels.
ד וְנִשְׁחַת הַכְּלִי, אֲשֶׁר הוּא עֹשֶׂה בַּחֹמֶר--בְּיַד הַיּוֹצֵר; וְשָׁב, וַיַּעֲשֵׂהוּ כְּלִי אַחֵר, כַּאֲשֶׁר יָשַׁר בְּעֵינֵי הַיּוֹצֵר, לַעֲשׂוֹת. {ס}	4 And whenever the vessel that he made of the clay was marred in the hand of the potter, he made it again another vessel, as seemed good to the potter to make it. {S}
ה וַיְהִי דְבַר-יְהוָה, אֵלַי לֵאמוֹר.	5 Then the word of the ETERNAL came to me, saying:
ו הֲכַיּוֹצֵר הַזֶּה לֹא-אוּכַל לַעֲשׂוֹת לָכֶם, בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל--נְאֻם-יְהוָה; הִנֵּה כַחֹמֶר בְּיַד הַיּוֹצֵר, כֵּן-אַתֶּם בְּיָדִי בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל. {ס}	6 'O house of Israel, cannot I do with you as this potter? says the ETERNAL Behold, as the clay in the potter's hand, so are you in My hand, O house of Israel. {S}

Similarly, we find in Isaiah 64:7 –

ז וְעַתָּה יְהוָה, אָבִינוּ אָתָּה; אֲנַחְנוּ הַחֹמֶר וְאַתָּה יֹצְרֵנוּ, וּמַעֲשֵׂה יָדְךָ כֻּלָּנוּ.	7 But now, ADONAI, You are our Parent; we are the clay, and You our potter, and we all are the work of Your hand.

These Biblical and Medieval passages contain a poignant though potentially troubling message:  They assert that our fates, as material creatures in this material world, are utterly dependent on the external forces brought to bear upon us by היוצר (“Hayotzer”) – by the Creator.  But, if that is the case, what about free will?  What possible meaning or justice could there be in concepts of good and evil, or reward and punishment, if we are merely clay in the hands of the potter --- shaped by outside factors.

Let us try to respond to this theological concern.  First, let’s consider the case of Hayotzer – the potter.  The potter is not just an impersonal force.  The potter is an artist.  An artist seeking to create a thing of beauty.  And, as Rabbi Leila Gal Berner, in her commentary to Ki Hiney Hachomer in the Kol Haneshama Recontructionist Machzor (p. 802), observes:  “[I]f we think of God as helping to make our lives a thing of beauty, we may joyfully offer the raw material that is ourselves to God.” 

According to the 13^th –century commentator Abraham ben Azriel, thinking of God as an artist and ourselves as works of art can give us confidence and faith.  He writes:  “all artisans feel compassionately toward their artwork which they would not want to destroy. […] An artist, for example, constantly adds to the beauty of the art, and would never do anything to break it.” (quoted in Lawrence Hoffman, Gates of Understanding 2, CCAR Press, 1984, p. 135).

In the weeks before Yom Kippur a few years ago, in order to try to get a better feel for this metaphor of God as Potter and people as clay, I contacted my friend Alyssa.  Though it’s not her “day job,”  Alyssa has for many years pursued an avocation as a potter. 

In an e-mail message at that time, I had asked Alyssa how she felt about the clay that she molds.  What’s her spiritual, physical or emotional relationship to it?  How does the experience of working with clay affect how she lives her life in other spheres of her existence?

This was her response:

“Hi David, This is really interesting…  There are various methods in which one can mold clay.  My tool of choice is my hands and the wheel.  As I “throw a pot” I feel:

• Complete control as I have the ability to move the clay into the shape I want.         
• [I feel] [a]bsolutely no control as the wheel moves the clay and I just keep my hands steady.
• [and I feel] [b]ound by the laws of clay.  Even though I create the shape, I have to follow the basic concepts of throwing. Such as center the clay first, drill the center and open the walls.

“My relationship with the process is more physical for me, but I’m sure it’s different for everyone.  As I am not a spiritual person, it can be more emotional than anything.  The reason I’m able to spend so much time doing this is because it has gotten to the point that it’s innate.  I don’t have to really concentrate on the fundamentals anymore.  I obviously have to do the fundamentals, but I’m not focusing on it.  It’s a wonderful feeling to be able to create from scratch, all by myself, and it turns into something I’m proud of.  It may not come out to be exactly what I intended it to be, but I’m proud of it nonetheless.

“Working with clay is a vice for me.  It’s always fun to do something you’re good at.  It gives me confidence to try other things. This little seed of confidence somehow shines through in other areas of my life.  I lean on it.

“Well David…  I hope this helps.  I didn’t even know I thought this way until you asked.”

Although Alyssa describes herself as “not a spiritual person,” I think that she makes an important spiritual point nonetheless.  She writes that from a certain point of view she has “absolute control” in shaping the clay.  That’s like the image of God as potter in the poem “Ki Hiney Hachomer.”  But she also acknowledges that there are limits to her power – she is not in control when the wheel takes over and she keeps her hands steady.  And she is “bound by the laws of clay” and by the “basic concepts of throwing.”

And so it is with God.  We wonder – why does God let bad things happen?  How can God allow evil and sickness to exist in the world?  And one answer seems to be that, just as the potter is bound by the laws of clay, so is God, as it were,  bound by the laws of the universe – even if we may understand God as having willingly bound God’s self to those laws, a process the kabbalists call “tzimtzum”/ “contraction.”

So even if we have faith in God as the ultimate Creator and Author, the “Yotzer,” of the universe – Once that universe is set into motion, the laws of materiality, of “chomranut,” come into force.  And just when it seems that God is most absent from the life of the world – THAT is the very moment when God, as it were, is keeping Her hands steady on the potter’s wheel.

Most of us are not potters ourselves – but there are certainly many ways in which we have exercised comparable functions:  Parents help to mold and shape their children – passing on their own values and experiences to them, then stepping back to let their children come into their own, secure in the knowledge that their parents continue to provide a steady and supportive presence – that their parents’ hands, so to speak, are still keeping the pottery wheel steady.

The same is true for the influence of teachers upon students.  And I certainly experience this in my relationship as rabbi to congregants.  And, in very real ways, we all, at various times in our lives, help shape other people’s values and worldviews through the examples we set by our own behavior.

In all these situations, we know that our influence on those who look to us for guidance is significant.  Therefore, we strive to be responsible and conscientious.  And on Yom Kippur we search deep within our hearts to repent for those ways in which we have not been as responsible or as conscientious as we ought to have been in the past year.

But we also know that our own insights and abilities are imperfect – for God’s artistry is beyond that of any earthly potter, sculptor, mason, blacksmith or glazier --   beyond any earthly parent, teacher or rabbi – beyond that of any human being.

And, conversely, we know that we who receive guidance from others – in other words, every one of us – do still have free wills of our own.  We may be Ka-chomer/ Like clay (the Hebrew prefix ka in the work kachomer means “like” or “as”) – but that’s a metaphor (or, I guess, technically, a simile), not a statement of identity.  In some ways we are like clay, but, in fact, we are more than clay.

Do you remember the opening words of the song “Anatevka” in “Fiddler on the Roof?”  “A little bit of this, a little bit of that…”  That’s us.  On the one hand, we DO have free will.  We ARE free to choose how will conduct ourselves in life.  Whether we will follow our good inclination, our “yetzer hatov” or our evil inclination, our “yetzer hara.”  And, as we learn in Pirke Avot (4:1)

“Who is mighty? One who controls one’s natural urges (one’s “yetzer”), as it is said, “One who is slow to anger is better than the mighty and one who rules one’s spirit than one who conquers a city.” (Prov. 16:32)

But, on the other hand, we ARE affected by forces beyond our control.  We ARE products of the circumstances in which we have been raised.

The key is to find a proper balance between these two poles.  As individuals, we should always strive to reach beyond our preconceived limitations.  Not to accept the status quo but, rather, to be continually reaching for more holiness, more meaning, more life.  Yet, at the same time, we should always be gentle with ourselves, accepting that we DO ultimately have limitations and that we are, ultimately, mortal.  Indeed, we are living in a material world and we are material girls – and boys and men and women.

But we are also the material, the stuff, the chomer, from which a divine creation of beauty is being fashioned.  May we recognize that beauty in ourselves, in our fellow human beings, and in our world.  And where that beauty remains only potential beauty – where hatred, poverty, ignorance and injustice keep that beauty bottled up and unrealized – let us work as partners with היוצר (Hayotzer) – with the Creator of us all – to materialize it.

גמר חתימה טובה וצום קל (Gmar chatimah tovah v’tzom kal) / May you have  a good sealing in the Book of Life and an easy fast.  Shabbat Shalom.

(c) Rabbi David Steinberg 5772/2011

ROSH HASHANAH MORNING SERMON 5772/2011

V’al Kawl Yisrael/ועל כל ישראל /For All Israel

Last night, I shared with you that I’d be speaking over the High Holidays about each of the three “concentric circles of our aspirations.”   “Concentric circles of our aspirations” --- That’s Rabbi David Teutsch’s description for how at the end of the full Kaddish  we pray to “Oseh Shalom Bimromav” to “The One who makes peace in the heavens”  -- that there be  Shalom “aleinu,” for us / “v’al kol yisra’el,” for all Israel/ and “ v’al kol yoshvei tevel, “   for all who dwell on earth. 

This morning we focus on the second of these three concentric circles – our hope for shalom “al kol yisra’el” – “for all Israel.”

As most of you probably already know, the word “Yisra’el” has several different connotations in Judaism.  We might think of the biblical “Eretz Yisra’el”/ “Land of Israel” or the modern “Medinat Yisra’el”/”State of Israel”.  Their borders overlap but are by no means coterminous.  And just as the borders of Ancient Israel varied throughout the centuries, so have the borders of the modern State of Israel varied over time.

But when the word “Yisra’el /ישראל” is used by itself in traditional Jewish prayers, as in the “Oseh Shalom”, it is shorthand for “Ahm Yisra’el”/ “The People of Israel” or “B’nai Yisra’el”/ “The children of Israel”  -- in other words -- the Jewish people.  Thus, the word “Yisra’el” here invokes not the plot of land in the Middle East but rather the memory of Jacob, our patriarch Ya’acov, who acquired the new name Yisra’el after his mysterious nocturnal wrestling match described in Torah portion Vayishlach.

Here’s how the Torah introduces the new name “Yisra’el” at Genesis 32: 25-29:

Now Ya’akov was left alone, and a man wrestled with him until the rise of dawn.  When he saw that he could not overcome him, he struck Ya’acov’s hip-socket, so that Ya’akov’s hip-socket was wrenched as he wrestled with him.  Then he said, ‘Let me go; dawn is breaking!’ But he said ‘I will not let you go unless you bless me!’ He said, ‘What is your name?’ and he said ‘Ya’acov’. And he said, ‘No more shall you be called ‘Ya’acov’ but rather ‘Yisr’ael’ because ‘Saritah im elohim’ / ‘you have struggled with God’ v’im anashim / and with human beings – and you have prevailed.   (Gen. 32: 25-29)

In a sense, we Jews have been wrestling ever since.  Wrestling with words of Torah. Wrestling with forces of injustice.  Wrestling for our own security and well-being in the world.

Actually, you could say that the wrestling begins even earlier in the Torah, even before the name Israel is introduced.  Just take a look at the two back-to-back stories that we read in the Torah on the first and second days of Rosh Hashanah.  The Torah reading we were reading this morning speaks of the struggle between Sarah and Hagar over who’s son would be the inheritor of Abraham’s covenant with God.  Would it be Ishmael, conceived by Abraham and Hagar ----  or Isaac, conceived by Abraham and Sarah?

Concerning Ishmael, whose near death as a result of being banished from Abraham’s household was described in today’s Torah reading, God proclaims ---  “le goi gadol asimenu” “I will make him a great nation” (Gen. 21:18).   And, indeed, in Islam he is traditionally viewed as the father of a number of Arab tribes, including the tribe from which came the Prophet Mohammed.

Concerning Isaac, whose near death at the Akedah we read tomorrow, God later in the Torah proclaims–

גּוּר בָּאָרֶץ הַזֹּאת, וְאֶהְיֶה עִמְּךָ וַאֲבָרְכֶךָּ: כִּי-לְךָ וּלְזַרְעֲךָ, אֶתֵּן אֶת-כָּל-הָאֲרָצֹת הָאֵל, וַהֲקִמֹתִי אֶת-הַשְּׁבֻעָה, אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּעְתִּי לְאַבְרָהָם אָבִיךָ.

 “Reside in this land, and I will be with you and bless you; I will give all these lands to you and to your heirs, fulfilling the oath that I swore to your father Abraham.” (Gen. 26:3)

Suffice it to say that the majority of the Muslim world in general and the Arab world in general does not accept Biblically-based claims based on texts like the one I just quoted from Genesis 26, as being sufficient evidence of the right of the State of Israel to exist as a Jewish State in the lands once ruled by Kings Saul, David and Solomon.

But it’s important to remember that the modern State of Israel was not established in reliance on Jewish theological claims, but rather on Jewish historical claims.  Whatever we may believe or not believe about God, or about the nature of the Tanakh, we know from secular scholarly sources that there were ancient Jewish monarchies in the land of Israel, that most of our people were forcibly expelled from the land by invading forces in ancient times, that small Jewish settlements continued to exist in Israel throughout the centuries, that small numbers of Jews made their way from the Diaspora to the Land of Israel through the ages and that --- with the rise of political Zionism in the late 19^th century  --  that we returned to our ancient homeland in large numbers.

Indeed, the Declaration of Independence of the State of Israel sets out the argument for Jewish statehood in the most secular of language, arguing from the perspective of Jewish peoplehood rather than from any perspective of Divine grant: 

ERETZ-ISRAEL (the Land of Israel) was the birthplace of the Jewish people. Here their spiritual, religious and political identity was shaped. Here they first attained to statehood, created cultural values of national and universal significance and gave to the world the eternal Book of Books.

After being forcibly exiled from their land, the people kept faith with it throughout their Dispersion and never ceased to pray and hope for their return to it and for the restoration in it of their political freedom.

Impelled by this historic and traditional attachment, Jews strove in every successive generation to re-establish themselves in their ancient homeland. In recent decades they returned in their masses. Pioneers, ma'pilim (immigrants coming to Eretz-Israel in defiance of restrictive legislation) and defenders, they made deserts bloom, revived the Hebrew language, built villages and towns, and created a thriving community controlling its own economy and culture, loving peace but knowing how to defend itself, bringing the blessings of progress to all the country's inhabitants, and aspiring towards independent nationhood.

In the year 5657 (1897), at the summons of the spiritual father of the Jewish State, Theodore Herzl, the First Zionist Congress convened and proclaimed the right of the Jewish people to national rebirth in its own country.

This right was recognized in the Balfour Declaration of the 2nd November, 1917, and re-affirmed in the Mandate of the League of Nations which, in particular, gave international sanction to the historic connection between the Jewish people and Eretz-Israel and to the right of the Jewish people to rebuild its National Home.

The catastrophe which recently befell the Jewish people — the massacre of millions of Jews in Europe — was another clear demonstration of the urgency of solving the problem of its homelessness by re-establishing in Eretz-Israel the Jewish State, which would open the gates of the homeland wide to every Jew and confer upon the Jewish people the status of a fully privileged member of the community of nations.

Survivors of the Nazi holocaust in Europe, as well as Jews from other parts of the world, continued to migrate to Eretz-Israel, undaunted by difficulties, restrictions and dangers, and never ceased to assert their right to a life of dignity, freedom and honest toil in their national homeland.

But of course, that’s just our side of the story.  Whatever arguments one might make about the origins of Palestinian national identity, the fact of the matter remains that there was a resident Arab population there before and during the mass waves of Zionist immigration in the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries.  And furthermore, however one may understand its evolution, the Arab population of the land that would become the State of Israel certainly has a sense of Palestinian national identity today, both within the Green Line and in the West Bank and Gaza. 

We all know the history of Arab rejection of the State of Israel, a rejection that came in response to the original establishment of the State, even during the years prior to 1967 when East Jerusalem and the West Bank were occupied and annexed by Jordan, and when Gaza was occupied by Egypt.  They sought Israel’s destruction then even though the West Bank and Gaza were not under Israeli occupation.  And we all know that, even today, the Hamas leaders of Gaza refuse to imagine anything more than the possibility of, at most,  a 20-year-truce in their ongoing quest to wipe out the State of Israel.  For all intents and purposes, even if a new Palestinian State were established, its West Bank and Gaza components would for now be estranged from one another.   And the Gaza component would still effectively be at war with Israel.

But the West Bank, where day-to-day Palestinian life is governed by the Palestinian Authority, is another story.  The Palestinian Authority was created in 1994 following upon the Oslo Accords of the previous year, as an interim entity which was supposed to last for only five years, during which time the final details of a peace agreement between Israel and the Palestinians were supposed to be agreed upon.  Yes, the parties to the Oslo Accords did agree that final status questions would be resolved through bilateral negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians.   But that was when this was envisioned as a five-year process.  Now it is seventeen years later, and, I must admit, I sympathize with the argument of the Palestinian leadership that negotiations long ago reached an impasse. 

I believe that the Palestinian leadership’s decision to seek statehood through the United Nations was a constructive and positive course of action.  It’s a course of action that shows a continuing commitment to non-violence on the part of the Palestinian Authority  while seeking out new ways of amassing international support for the establishment of their hoped for state.

Certainly, this is not the view of the Netanyahu government in Israel, or of many mainstream American Jewish organizations, or of the Obama administration.  I count myself a supporter and advocate of the State of Israel, and I feel spiritually and emotionally tied to it.  But I have not found Israeli or American government arguments against Abbas’s  application for UN membership to be convincing.  I’m glad he went through with it last Friday.  And I would hope that US would not veto it in the Security Council.

The argument has been made that the Palestinian Authority’s action at the UN will preclude direct negotiations between Israel and the PA.  That seems ludicrous to me.  Of course the parties will still have to negotiate on security and borders,  on the status of Jerusalem, on the question of Palestinian refugees and on the future of the Jewish settlements  --  all of the so-called “final status” issues.   But the achievement of being admitted to the United Nations as an internationally recognized state would nevertheless help to foster a sense of dignity and hope for the Palestinians as those negotiations with Israel continue.

The fact that the Hamas terrorists in Gaza oppose Abbas’s initiative is an argument to me in favor of Abbas. 

The declaration that that the state would be based on the 1949 armistice lines that were in effect until the 1967 six-day-war is still understood by everyone as a starting point for negotiations.  Small land-swaps would need to be agreed upon, not least of which would be an agreement for the Jewish quarter and Western Wall plaza in East Jerusalem to be under Israeli sovereignty.

As former Israeli prime minister Ehud Olmert so eloquently wrote in a recent New York Times op-ed essay: 

The parameters of a peace deal are well known and they have already been put on the table. I put them there in September 2008 when I presented a far-reaching offer to Mr. Abbas.

According to my offer, the territorial dispute would be solved by establishing a Palestinian state on territory equivalent in size to the pre-1967 West Bank and Gaza Strip with mutually agreed-upon land swaps that take into account the new realities on the ground.

The city of Jerusalem would be shared. Its Jewish areas would be the capital of Israel and its Arab neighborhoods would become the Palestinian capital. Neither side would declare sovereignty over the city’s holy places; they would be administered jointly with the assistance of Jordan, Saudi Arabia and the United States.

The Palestinian refugee problem would be addressed within the framework of the 2002 Arab Peace Initiative. The new Palestinian state would become the home of all the Palestinian refugees just as the state of Israel is the homeland of the Jewish people. Israel would, however, be prepared to absorb a small number of refugees on humanitarian grounds.

Because ensuring Israel’s security is vital to the implementation of any agreement, the Palestinian state would be demilitarized and it would not form military alliances with other nations. Both states would cooperate to fight terrorism and violence.

These parameters were never formally rejected by Mr. Abbas, and they should be put on the table again today. Both Mr. Abbas and Mr. Netanyahu must then make brave and difficult decisions.

We Israelis simply do not have the luxury of spending more time postponing a solution. A further delay will only help extremists on both sides who seek to sabotage any prospect of a peaceful, negotiated two-state solution.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/22/opinion/Olmert-peace-now-or-never.html?scp=2&sq=Ehud%20Olmert&st=cse

I would certainly put the Netanyahu government into the category of “extremists who seek to sabotage any prospect of a peaceful, negotiated two-state solution.”   Because at this stage of the game, the refusal to agree to a settlement freeze and the refusal to accept the pre-1967 borders as starting points for negotiations, are extreme positions.  I believe it would be a positive development if the admission of Palestine to the UN had the result of increasing pressure on Netanyahu to reinstate a settlement freeze and to agree that the final borders will be based on the pre-1967 lines with agreed upon land swaps. 

And remember:  The Palestinians, in starting from the negotiating precondition that it accepts those green line borders, is already agreeing to a significantly smaller Arab state and larger Jewish state than was called for by the original 1947 United Nations Partition Plan. 

Believe me, I am well aware of many of the legitimate counterarguments to everything that I’ve just talked about.  And, truly, I know I’m no expert, and I know that I haven’t chosen to live in Israel (though I did actively consider it at an earlier point in my life.), and I know that there are many people in the world who wrongly deny the Jewish people’s age-old ties to the Land of Israel.

But I am sure that your hearts respond as passionately as mine does to the exhortation of the psalmist:

ו שַׁאֲלוּ, שְׁלוֹם יְרוּשָׁלִָם; יִשְׁלָיוּ, אֹהֲבָיִךְ.	6 Pray for the peace of Jerusalem; may those who love you be at peace.
ז יְהִי-שָׁלוֹם בְּחֵילֵךְ; שַׁלְוָה, בְּאַרְמְנוֹתָיִךְ.	7 May there be well-being within your walls, peace in your citadels.
ח לְמַעַן, אַחַי וְרֵעָי-- אֲדַבְּרָה-נָּא שָׁלוֹם בָּךְ.	8 For the sake of my kin and my friends, I pray for your well-being.

(Ps. 122: 6-8)

I started out these remarks by explaining that when we sing “Oseh Shalom bimromav hu ya’aseh shalom aleinu, v’al kawl yisrael / May the one who makes peace in the heavens, make peace for us and for all Israel --- that “Israel” there refers to the Jewish people world-wide, not to the State of Israel.

But, make no mistake, we need “shalom” for the State of Israel if we want to have “shalom” for the Jewish people.  We need the State of Israel to exist and thrive so that no Jew will ever again be without a place to call home were disasters like the Sho’ah to arise again.  But, just as, if not more, importantly, we need the State of Israel to exist and thrive so that Jewish civilization itself can be nourished by being connected to its native soil.  And so that we, Jews who have chosen to live in the Diaspora, can be inspired by the example of a place where society operates according to the Jewish calendar, where our national language, Hebrew, flourishes, and where the values of our way of life can inform the society as a whole.

The words of the Ahava Rabbah blessing that precedes the Shema in the Shacharit service remind us of our centuries-old vision:   “Vehavienu leshalom meyarbah kanfot ha’aretz vetolichenu komemiyut l’artzenu” /“May You bring us together from the four corners of the earth, leading us upright to our land."

Still, it’s not about turning a piece of land into an idol.  The Ahava Rabbah blessing goes on to say that this ingathering of the exiles is for a purpose:  “lehodot lekha uleyachedkha b’ahavah”  “to offer thanks to You, and lovingly to declare your unity." 

If declaring the unity of God (“uleyachedkha”) is to mean anything – one thing that it has got to mean is that we who are Ahm Yisra’el (the Jewish people) are called upon to work towards the sorts of societies where each person is treated as b’tzelem elohim – in the image of God.  And one step in that process must surely be that the Palestinians achieve that same “komemiyut” / that  same “uprightness” and “dignity” – that we seek for our own people. 

Let’s get that 2-state solution in place.  B’mheira veyameinu/ Speedily in our days.  So that in Medinat Yisra’el and in the hoped for Palestinian state – both sharing the land that we know of as Eretz Yisra’el – we will see shalom   ---  aleinu, v’al kol yisrael, v’al kol yishma’el

ואמרו: אמן (V’imru – Ameyn).

(c) Rabbi David Steinberg 5772/2011

Rosh Hashanah Eve Sermon 5772/2011

A moment ago we concluded the amidah section of this ma’ariv service with the full kaddish.  The standard traditional ending of this form of the kaddish, just as is the case with the mourner’s kaddish,  is the line “Oseh Shalom bimromav, hu ya’aseh shalom aleynu, v’al kawl yisrael, v’imru, ameyn.”   “May the One who makes peace in the heavens, make peace for us and all Israel, and let us say, amen.” However, in Reconstructionist and Reform practice, we usually add the phrase “v’al kawl yoshvei tevel”/ “and for all who dwell on earth,” just as we’ve done tonight – even though it wasn’t in the book.

Regarding this additional phrase “v’al kol yoshvei tevel”/ “for all who dwell on earth,” I often think of the commentary by my teacher Rabbi David Teutsch  in our Shabbat morning siddur, Kol Haneshamah: Shabbat ve-Chagim, where Rabbi Teutsch explains (p. 114): “Adding the rabbinic phrase v’al kawl yoshvei tevel (and for all who dwell on earth) logically completes the concentric circles of our aspirations – our care starts with our minyan, extends to the entire Jewish people, and radiates outward from there to all who share our planet.”

When it comes to the Yamim Nora’im/ The Days of Awe, this universalizing tendency becomes even stronger –  not just in Reform and Reconstructionist practice but in Conservative and Orthodox Jewish liturgies as well.  In traditional Conservative and Orthodox siddurim, the Shalom Rav prayer, the last blessing in the Amidah,  ends with the words:  “Barukh Atah Adonai, hamevorekh et amo yisra’el bashalom”/ Blessed are you Adonai who blesses His people Israel with peace.   However, on these Days of Awe, the Orthodox and Conservative liturgies alter that line to use the version that Reconstructionist and Reform siddurim have been using all year long, replacing the words “hamevorekh et amo yisra’el bashalom”/”The one who blesses his people Israel with peace” with the more universal sentiment “Barukh atah adonai, oseh hashalom”/ “Blessed are you adonai, maker of peace.” 

The High Holidays are the big “Jewish homecoming week” for so many of us, and yet even now, especially now, we recognize that our prayers are not just about us, they are about the fate of the whole world.

As Rabbi Arthur Green observes in the Kol Haneshama: Shabbat ve-Chaggim siddur [p.104] concerning the phrase, “Oseh Hashalom”/”Maker of Peace” --  “In our times, when life has been transformed by the constant threat of global destruction, the need of the hour calls for the more universal form of the prayer throughout the year.”

Both of these examples of altering traditional prayer language to make it more universal remind us that, when we gather here to pray together, and especially when we gather together on the High Holidays, we are not on some little island unconnected from the rest of the world.  We have, in Rabbi Teutsch’s words, “the concentric circles of our aspirations”  --- “aleynu” (ourselves and our loved ones and friends and the members of our own congregation),  and we have “v’al kol yisra’el” (all our fellow Jews around the world, in the State of Israel as well as in the regions of our dispersions), and we have “v’al kol yoshvei tevel” (all who dwell on earth).

Actually, our prayers for shalom, even in their contemporary expanded versions are probably still not universal enough.  Where in those concentric circles of aleinu, v’al kol yisra’el, v’al kol yoshvei tevel do we place our country, the United States of America?  And where in those concentric circles of aleinu, v’al kol yisra’el v’al kol yoshvei tevel – do we place the planet earth itself?

I hope over the course of the holidays to share some thoughts with you on each of these “concentric circles:  aleinu, v’al kol yisra’el, v’al kol yoshvei tevel, as these “concentric circles of our aspirations” intersect with the classic themes of our traditional High Holiday prayers and scriptural readings.

But tonight, let’s start small, with our hopes for Shalom “aleinu”, upon us.  And who is this “us?”  It’s ourselves as individuals, ourselves as members of our particular households and ourselves as members of this one small Jewish community of Temple Israel.

We gather here tonight to contemplate our own individual destinies, and the needs of our families of origin and families of choice.  Each of us with our own unique prayerful offerings of praise, petition and thanksgiving.   In the words of Robert Kahn as adapted by Chaim Stern in our Reform siddur Mishkan Tefillah (p. 66):

Each of us enters this sanctuary with a different need,

Some hearts are full of peace and gratitude,

Overflowing with love and joy.

They are eager to confront the day, to make the world a better place.

They are recovering from illness, or have escaped misfortune.

We rejoice with them.

Some hearts ache with sorrow;

Disappointments weigh heavily on them.

Families have been broken; loved ones lie on a bed of pain;

Death has taken a cherished loved one.

May our presence and caring bring them comfort.

Some hearts are embittered;

Ideals are betrayed and mocked, answers sought in vain,

Life has lost its meaning and value.

May the knowledge that we, too, are searching

Restore our hope, and renew our faith.

Our tradition teaches us that we should strive for teshuvah/repentance/return every day of the year, but that this particular holiday season is the time that we really give it our all.   We are called upon to engage in “Cheshbon hanefesh”/  the inventory and examination of our own souls. 

And we ask ourselves – given all the blessings and simchas that we have experienced in the last year, have we been properly thankful?  Or have we taken them for granted?   Have we used our good fortunes so as to help others and so as to make the world a better place?  Or have we hoarded our treasures and cut ourselves off from the needs of our fellow human beings?

And we ask ourselves – given all the sorrows and tzuris that we have experienced in the last year, have we kept our faith?  Or have we allowed ourselves to become dispirited?  Have we tried to use our misfortunes and tragedies to help us to be more empathetic to others?  Or has the pain we have endured been so unbearable that we have felt cut off from the comforting hands and hearts of our fellow human beings and from the spiritual resources of healing we might find in our faith tradition?

Our prayers are mostly written in the plural, but each person’s plea is his or her own.  Even when we sing or read the words of the machzor in unison, the meanings and associations we attach to those words reflect the beautiful diversity of our community, and the variety of journeys that have brought each of us here as God has “[she]hecheyanu, vekiyemanu, vehegianu lazman hazeh”/ “kept us in life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season.”

Tonight is really just a warm-up.  The Rosh Hashanah daytime liturgy is a lot more lengthy and complex than the Rosh Hashanah evening service that we are soon to conclude.  And Yom Kippur is a bit of a marathon even for the best of us.  But I hope that each of us will be able to find room in our hearts over these upcoming 10 days to let the words, the melodies, the rituals and the memories of this season bring us to a place beyond our everyday selves.  May our observance of these days of awe help us to break down the walls between us and God, between us and our loved ones, and between us and our better selves.

L’shanah tova tikatevu/ May you be inscribed for a good year in the Book of Life and may 5772 be shanah tovah u’metukah – a good and sweet year aleinu, v’al kol yisrael, v’al kol yoshvei tevel – for us, for all Israel, and for all who dwell on earth.

ואמרו: אמן  (V’imru – Ameyn).

(c) Rabbi David Steinberg 5772/2011

Important Jewish statement against Islamaphobia

It's great to see this.

http://www.jta.org/news/article/2011/09/08/3089301/jewish-clergy-join-anti-islamaphobia-event