THAT GREAT CITY

Sermon for Erev Rosh Hashanah 5782

September 6, 2021

So, the pandemic isn’t over yet.  But we are all, in our various ways, trying to ascertain for ourselves what level of risk we are willing to accept in the way we live our lives.  Pandemic or no pandemic, that’s a calculation that all of us have been making all our lives whether we were conscious of it or not.  I, for example, can assure that I plan never to go skydiving, or bungee jumping, or motorcycle riding.  And, I’m sure that some of you weigh the risks of such activities differently than I do, and that’s okay.

In any event, back in July, Liam and I (both fully vaccinated), after assessing our own level of comfort with risk, flew to southern California on vacation to visit friends and family and just to enjoy a getaway.  Thankfully, we had great weather and there were no wildfire outbreaks in the part of California where we were travelling. 

One of the highlights of our time out west was a day trip via ferry to Catalina Island. 

It was while out on the open ocean on that ferry ride to Catalina Island that I started thinking about Jonah.  Our ferry rides to and from the island went smoothly.  How different from Jonah’s storm-tossed odyssey as he was fleeing from God’s call to him to preach against the evils of the Great City of Nineveh!  But, anyway, there I was out on the ocean thinking about the story of Jonah that we read each year on Yom Kippur afternoon.  

And it occurred to me – Hmmh… The Book of Jonah has four chapters. 

And I’m expected to do four High Holiday sermons. 

And those four High Holiday sermons --- Erev Rosh Hashanah, 1st morning of Rosh Hashanah, Kol Nidre night, and Yom Kippur morning – all precede our reading of Jonah on Yom Kippur afternoon when we don’t usually include a sermon. 

Okay, so you can do the math!

Tonight, for the first of my four High Holiday sermons, I’d like to reflect upon messages we might find in the first of the four chapters of the Book of Jonah.

There are so many directions we could go in reflecting upon the themes in Jonah chapter 1.  But first a reminder of what chapter 1 of the Book of Jonah contains.

Jonah, or, to give him his full name – Yonah ven Amitai – receives a prophetic message from God, calling upon Jonah “Arise and go to Nineveh,  HA’IR HAGEDOLAH,  that great city, and cry out against it; for their wickedness has come up before Me.”

But Jonah runs off in the opposite direction, going down to the port of Jaffa to get himself on a ship going to Tarshish.  Tarshish, the commentators tell us, is in what is now western Spain --- as far away from Nineveh as it would have been possible to travel in Jonah’s day and age  – Nineveh being located in what is now northeastern Iraq. 

So Jonah sets out to sea and God, as it were, is massively annoyed at Jonah’s dereliction of duty. So God sends RU’ACH GEDOLAH – a great wind upon the sea, which leads to SA’AR GADOL – a great storm --- threatening with destruction not only Jonah, but the entire ship and its crew.  The sailors cry out to their respective pagan gods for help but to no avail.

Meanwhile, Jonah is fast asleep in the bowels of the ship. The ship’s captain wakes him up and interrogates him.  Who are you?  What is your business? Who are your people? 

Jonah freely acknowledges --- “Ivri Anochi” / “I am a Hebrew” .  

And, somewhat surprisingly, since he is disobeying God by sailing off to Tarshish – Jonah says – “It is Adonai, the God of Heaven whom I fear, the one who made both the sea and the dry land.” 

Well, one thing leads to another and the sailors --- at the suggestion of Jonah himself – throw Jonah overboard which results in the sea ceasing its raging.  The ship and its crew are safe.  Even though they are not Israelites, they offer a sacrifice and make vows to Adonai.  But it looks like curtains for Jonah. 

End of Chapter 1.

What do we learn from chapter 1 of the Book of Jonah?  And what does it all have to do with the High Holiday season that we are entering tonight?  And how does any of it resonate with things going on in our world right now?

When I was first considering talking about Jonah for the High Holidays, and, in particular, Jonah chapter 1 on Erev Rosh Hashanah, the words that jumped out at me from the text were Jonah’s response when the captain of the ship asked about his identity.  Jonah says: עִבְרִ֣י אָנֹ֑כִי “ / “I am a Hebrew” (Jonah 1:9)

Hebrew – IVRI – That descriptor – first used to describe Abraham in the Book of Genesis – comes from the linguistic root “AVAR” – AYIN – BET- RESH --  which has the sense of crossing over boundaries.  It can also imply “transgressing.”  Indeed, one of our synonyms for “sin” is “averah,” from that same verbal root Ayin-Bet-Resh). 

And the term Hebrew/Ivri can also imply someone who is contrarian.  As the midrash says about the phrase “Avraham Ha-Ivri”/ “Abraham the Hebrew” in Genesis 14:13 --  כָּל הָעוֹלָם כֻּלּוֹ מֵעֵבֶר אֶחָד וְהוּא מֵעֵבֶר אֶחָד (“All the world stood on one side while he stood on the other side.”)

So, this fellow Jonah, was not going to hide his identity.  He was willing to identify himself as someone whose identity was not the same as that of the rest of the folks on that ship.

 Good for him on that score.  How many of us are ever reluctant or nervous about letting people know who we are?

Jonah says that he fears God (or that he is in awe of God – depends on how you translate “yarei”) yet he is still assertive enough to actively rebel against God.  God tells him go East to proclaim my word.  And Jonah immediately heads West. 

And when danger strikes --- and how could it not if   --- as Jonah acknowledges -- Adonai is master of both the sea and the dry land --- Jonah responds in a manner that is either fearless, or suicidal, or maybe both. 

He could have explained the situation to the sailors and convinced them to reverse course back to Jaffa so that Jonah could then proceed on his assigned mission to Tarshish.  But no.  He would rather die first before doing what God had told him to do. He would rather drown in the sea than preach to the people of Nineveh that they must turn from their evil ways. 

Literary scholarship suggests that the book of Jonah was written a couple of centuries after the time in which it was set.  Now the book never explicitly says when it is set, but this Jonah, as we mentioned, is identified as none other than Yonah Ben Amitai.  And Yonah ben Amitai is identified in 2 Kings 14:25 as having been active during the reign of King Jeroboam who ruled from 787 to 747 BCE. 

So, the writer (or writers) of the Book of Jonah, writing a couple of centuries later, would have well known that in 722 BCE, just a couple of decades later than the time in which the story is set, the Assyrian Empire (with its capital in Nineveh) had conquered the northern Kingdom of Israel. They also knew that, in the decades prior to that conquest, the Assyrian Empire was already a cruel, expansionist empire that threatened the nations around it, including Israel. 

And all that raises the question: Why should Jonah be willing to do anything to help the people of a nation that threatens his own nation, and that would conquer his own nation in the near future?

Why should Jonah do anything to help the people of Nineveh?

And, more generally, why even should the God of Israel concern Godself with the people of that foreign nation?

But that, of course, is one of the great messages not only of the High Holidays but of Judaism in general.  Adonai is the God not only of Israel, but of the whole world.

Reconstructionist Judaism rejects the idea of Jews as the “chosen people”.  But even those Jews who accept that idea, must also reckon with the Biblical insistence that God is concerned with the fate of all humanity.

The Jewish people are not unique in God’s concern for them.

As the prophet Amos declares: 

הֲל֣וֹא כִבְנֵי֩ כֻשִׁיִּ֨ים אַתֶּ֥ם לִ֛י בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל נְאֻם־ה' הֲל֣וֹא אֶת־יִשְׂרָאֵ֗ל הֶעֱלֵ֙יתִי֙ מֵאֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרַ֔יִם וּפְלִשְׁתִּיִּ֥ים מִכַּפְתּ֖וֹר וַאֲרָ֥ם מִקִּֽיר׃

(“ To Me, O Israelites, you are Just like the Ethiopians —declares the Eternal. True, I brought Israel up from the land of Egypt, But also the Philistines from Caphtor And the Arameans from Kir.”).

 And to which we, having listened to the Book of Jonah every year on Yom Kippur, would add --- we are also just like the Ninevites.  Just as God called upon Israel to turn away from sin, so did God call upon Nineveh to do likewise.

Whether we think of the Bible as divinely inspired, or whether we view it as poetic record of human attempts to find meaning in life, we can’t help but be moved and challenged by this idea:

This idea that we need to care about the fate of those who face existential danger --- even if they reside in another land, even if they belong to another people. 

Charity, as the saying goes, begins at home.  But it doesn’t end there.

And, to put it into a contemporary context ripped from the headlines:  

Nineveh was far away from Jerusalem.  Just as Kabul is far away from Washington. 

It’s tempting to think that the United States and its NATO allies had no business interfering in the internal affairs of Afghanistan for the past twenty years, or at least for the past decade after the killing (in Pakistan, not Afghanistan) of Osama Bin Laden.  Well, more than tempting, it’s reasonable and logical to be outraged at the billions of dollars spent on propping up a government that turned out to be riddled with corruption.

But we did give hope and promise to a new generation of Afghans, especially a new generation of Afghan girls and women, who were able to move past the oppressive strictures of previous generations. 

There was a letter to the editor in the New York Times the other day that I found very moving.  The letter-writer, Aris Daghighian, is an immigration and refugee lawyer living in Toronto (He also happens to have attended law school at the University of Minnesota according to his LinkedIn profile).  He writes:

To the Editor:   Many members of my extended family and former clients are from Afghanistan, and it is concerning that the prevailing wisdom has now become that we should never have tried to help them in the first instance and never should again. Saving a nation from tyranny is a herculean mission, but we should not be so quick to conclude that it is unachievable.

[…]

We cannot with certainty say there were no alternate decisions that could have been made over the last 20 years that could have led to a better outcome. Perhaps Afghanistan could never have been the ideal version of a Western liberal democracy, but something short of that and better than the current outcome is not unimaginable.

Simply because we failed does not mean that success was never possible. Simply because nation-building is hard does not mean it cannot be done. Simply because we floundered does not mean we should never have tried.

The price of defeat has been steep, but the reward of salvaging a nation of 39 million and the lives of generations of women and girls was worth the attempt, even if the possibility of success was remote.

Aris Daghighian
Toronto[1]

Now that American and NATO forces have left Afghanistan and the Taliban has taken control of the country by force and threat of force, tens if not hundreds of thousands of Afghan citizens are in danger.

As we gather here to mark our Jewish new year 5782, we remember and give thanks for the bravery and sacrifice of all who have tried to create a better life for the Afghan people, especially our brave servicemen and women.  And even as the United States and its allies pull back from active presence there, we resolve not to forget those we left behind, and we resolve to welcome those who have escaped and who seek refuge in our own country.

There is no current likelihood of Afghan refugees being settled in the Twin Ports since the nearest refugee resettlement agencies are in Madison, Wisconsin and in the Twin Cities and St. Cloud, Minnesota.  However, we can still donate to organizations such as HIAS, Doctors Without Borders and the International Rescue Committee. And, should refugees be settled in our area in the future, we can and ought to welcome and support them in any way we can.

Just as Jonah was called upon by God to concern himself with the fate of hundreds of thousands of strangers in a far-off land, so too are we called as well.

At Rosh Hashanah we traditionally wish for one another Shanah Tovah u’Metukah.  A good and sweet year.  This year, as we reflect upon all the sacrifices of the past twenty years and upon all the dangers still present for those living under the repressive rule of the Taliban, that sweetness we long for may at best still be bittersweet, but God willing, sweet nonetheless. 

For those who have fled Afghanistan and those who have been left behind, for us, and for all the world may this indeed be a shanah tovah u’metukah all the same.

Amen.

(c) Rabbi David Steinberg (September 2021/ Tishri 5782)

[1] https://www.nytimes.com/2021/08/30/opinion/letters/afghanistan-united-states.html

CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM

(Dvar Torah on Parashat Naso [Num. 5:1 - 7:89] given on Shabbat evening Friday 5/21/21) 

Broadly speaking, the first ten chapters of the Book of Numbers deals with various efforts to organize the Israelite encampment and to prepare it for leaving Mt. Sinai on its journey to the Promised Land. 

In last week’s Torah portion, Parashat Bemidbar, a military readiness census was taken and the various tribes were organized in terms of their positions around the tabernacle.

In this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Naso, a census of the Levites, begun towards the end of last week’s parasha, is concluded.

After that, the text turns to questions of preserving the holiness and ritual purity of the camp.  In other words, last week’s parasha was about building up our defenses against potential external foes. And this week’s portion is about building up our defenses against internal threats.

What types of internal threats?

First, in Numbers 5: 1-4, there is a provision about temporary isolation of anyone who is ritually impure because of proximity to a corpse or because of abnormal bodily discharges. 

Next, in Numbers 5: 5-10, we have a provision about restitution requirements when one person has wronged another in a monetary dispute.  

Next in Numbers 5: 11-31, we have the (admittedly problematic) case of the “Sotah” – a wife suspected by her husband of having committed adultery.  However, many commentators both classical and modern see this case as being about providing a ritual method for promoting reconciliation between feuding spouses. So, in that respect, it’s a third example in our parasha about how to heal division within the Israelite community that could weaken the community’s ability to move forward towards the Promised Land.

And finally, in Numbers, chapter 6, we have the ritual of the Nazirite vow. And this can be seen as a method for channeling the religious enthusiasm of individuals who, because they were not among the descendants of Aaron, could not become Kohanim or Priests. 

What did it mean to take a Nazirite vow?  There are some conflicting details about Nazirite vows in other parts of the Bible, but, at least here in Parashat Naso, it’s about an individual who takes it upon himself or herself to do the following:

1)     Refrain from wine or strong drink.

2)     Refrain from cutting their hair

3)     Refrain from being in the proximity of a corpse – even if this means not taking part in the burial of one’s own next of kin

And, in general, to set oneself apart from one’s neighbors so as to be focused on devotion to God.

We can see this as a method for channeling the religious enthusiasm of individuals who, because they were not among the descendants of Aaron, could not become Kohanim or Priests.  In that way, it promotes community stability. 

Still, Jewish tradition is ambivalent about such an undertaking.  Indeed, when the term of the person’s Nazirite vow is completed they are supposed to bring a sin offering to the Kohen.  Why a sin offering?  Rashi says it’s because he or she had sinned against God by refusing to enjoy pleasures of this world that God had permitted to us – drinking wine being the paradigmatic example of such pleasures.

All things being equal, we’re not supposed to be torturing ourselves for the sake of God.  Rather, we are supposed to enjoy the blessings of life, though, to be sure, within moderation.

Why does the law of the Nazirite immediately follow the passage that deals with the “sotah”, the wife suspected of adultery?  In Tractate Sotah of the Talmud, Rabbi Yehudah Hanasi is cited for the explanation:

שכל הרואה סוטה בקלקולה יזיר עצמו מן היין [1

“that anyone who sees a sotah in her disgrace as she undergoes the rite of the bitter water should renounce wine, as wine is one of the causes of sexual transgression, as it loosens inhibitions.”

Well, the sotah ritual is problematic, and the Talmud says it was abolished during the period of the second Temple.  But this idea that one ought to restrict oneself from certain behaviors if one fears they would get out of control – maybe that’s a bit closer to home.

I dunno.  I must have been thinking subconsciously about this week’s Torah portion yesterday because yesterday I made a spur of the moment decision not to buy wine for kiddush this week and instead to buy grape juice (That’s what I have in my cup here.). 

No, I’m not deciding to abstain from alcohol permanently, or even temporarily, but it did occur to me that I don’t really need to go through a whole bottle of wine on my own every week. 

Like many of us, I’ve realized that I’ve consumed rather more alcohol during this past pandemic year than I did pre-Covid. 

And, like many of us, maybe the underlying stresses of the events of the past year have led me to indulge in fattening foods more this year than pre-pandemic. 

For each of us, maybe a year of disruption from our regular communal interactions has led to some undesirable shifts in some of our behaviors.

And so, as we move towards the end of the pandemic, as we emerge from our isolated, Zoom cocoons back fully into the world of normal in-person gatherings, maybe the Torah of the Nazir can prompt us to consider thoughtfully what adjustments in our lives might be useful for us to consider as we reenter the world.

Shabbat shalom.

© Rabbi David Steinberg 5781/2021

[1] Sotah 2a

Dvar Torah for Temple Israel 2020 Annual Meeting

(12/6/20; 20 Kislev 5781)

We traditionally refer to ourselves as “Ahm Yisra’el” the people of Israel or Bnai Yisra’el, the children of Israel --- or simply “Israel”.  And, of course, that’s the name of our congregation as well:  “Temple Israel.”  Israel, as we know, is the name given to Jacob by God after he wrestles with the angel in Genesis chapter 32.  There the angel declares:  “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but rather Israel” (Hebrew: “Yisra’el”) – “ki sarita im Elohim v’im anashim v’tuchal” / “for you have striven with beings divine and human and prevailed.”[1]

This idea of striving, struggling, wrestling with issues both philosophical and practical is indeed an important characteristic of Jewish life. 

However, during this time of year when our Torah reading cycle features the story of Joseph, I often feel that Ahm Yosef (the People of Joseph”) might be an even better name for us.  The Torah teaches that various patriarchs and matriarchs prior to Joseph experience God directly and explicitly.  Indeed the same claim is made for Adam and Eve and Noah before them.  God speaks to them and appears to them directly.

Joseph, on the other hand, is more like us.  God never addresses him directly. And yet, Joseph models for us the religious behavior of a much later age:  He doesn’t experience direct, unmediated revelation.  Yet he understands that God’s presence is reflected in the vicissitudes of his life.  In this week’s Torah portion, Vayeshev, he tells Pharaoh’s wine steward and baker, who are imprisoned with him in Pharoah’s dungeon jail , that it is God who gives us the ability to interpret dreams.[2] In next week’s Torah portion, Miketz, when he interprets Pharaoh’s dreams he insists again, even more forcefully, that the dreams and the interpretations ultimately come from God.[3]  And when, in the following week’s Torah portion, Vayigash, he and his brothers are finally reunited, Joseph forgives them for having sold him into slavery, asserting:  that it was ultimately God who sent him ahead of them to Egypt in order to be able to save lives.

So to with our lives:  We each have our ups and downs, our joys and our heartbreaks, and it’s easy to succumb to despair at the seeming meaningless and randomness of it all.  But, following the lead of Yosef Ha-Tzadik (“Joseph the Righteous”), our Jewish tradition teaches us to look for God’s presence, to look for meaning, to look for a bigger picture. 

When in our Temple’s mission statement we see that Temple Israel is to be center for Jewish life, that’s an important part of that mission --- providing opportunities – through worship, study, social action and communal camaraderie, to experience the Divine that infuses the everyday.

This year, all of this been unusually challenging. The pandemic has had isolating effects on us.At times, it can seem like we, not unlike Joseph in this week’s parashah, have been dispateched into a pit or dungeon-like jail. But we have all been making our best efforts to stay connected even when so many of our regular avenues for doing so have been disrupted. God willing, in a few more months this strange interlude will be behind us. In the meantime, let’s all stay safe as we convey our thanks and best wishes to our board members --- both those stepping off the board today and those who are continuing or beginning their terms in office.

[1] Genesis 32:29

[2] See Genesis 40:8

[3] Genesis 41:16

MOVING ON

Dvar Torah for Parashat Chayei Sarah given on Friday evening 11/13/20

[Genesis 23:1 – 25:18]

Near the end of this week’s Torah portion we read of Abraham’s final years, after the death and burial of Sarah, and after the marriage of Isaac and Rebecca.

We learn in Gen 25:1 that Abraham takes another wife, named Keturah.  Rashi, following the lead of the classic rabbinic midrash collection, Bereshit Rabba, asserts that this Keturah was none other than Hagar, the mother of Abraham’s first son Ishmael.[1]  Hagar and Ishmael had been sent away years before, but, according to this midrashic version, Abraham called Hagar back to be with him in his final years after the death of her rival Sarah.

We may or may not find this midrashic flight of fancy convincing.  Indeed, other medieval commentators dispute the identification of Keturah with Hagar.  However, I personally find it very moving to imagine that Keturah was Hagar.  This means that Abraham's life could end on a note of reconciliation after the various crises and trials that he had lived through in the decades before.

And perhaps this explains how a few verses later, at Gen. 25:9, it can happen that Isaac and Ishmael bury their father together.  Perhaps there is a long hoped-for reconciliation there too.   And, if not a full-scale reconciliation, at least it shows that they were capable of joining together to address a common task.

In like fashion, let us pray for reconciliation among the various political factions within our country.  That all of us – including the most ardent partisans among us -- may respect one another’s humanity and ascribe sincere motivations to one another’s actions.

Such an approach has gotten more and more difficult with each new election cycle.  Too many of the loudest voices in the political realm seem to deny the legitimacy of those who disagree with them.  That is particularly true with respect to the administration that is now in its last days.  The new President-Elect, Joe Biden, has promised to be a president for all the people in our nation, not just those who voted for him.  That will be a welcome change if he is true to his words. 

Whatever our own political affiliations or leanings  --whether we be Democrats or Republicans or none of the above --- let us hope and pray that the new administration will be successful in leading us past the current pandemic and ushering in a time of reconciliation and progress for all.

Meanwhile, I’m generally feeling a bit calmer today than in recent days about the current transition period.  It seems to me that the artificial obstacles that were placed in the way of a smooth transition are inexorably melting away by the hour.

In the coming days and weeks, may the transition from one administration to the next be as smooth and graceful as the transitions that miraculously take place before our very eyes each day as God rolls away the light before the darkness and the darkness before the light.[2]

Shabbat shalom.

© Rabbi David Steinberg

November 2020/ Cheshvan 5781

[1] https://www.sefaria.org/Genesis.25.1?lang=bi&aliyot=0&p2=Rashi_on_Genesis.25.1.1&lang2=bi

[2] C.f., the “Maariv Aravim” blessing in the evening prayer service. http://jman1.com/Hebrew/Prayers/Ma%27ariv+Aravim

JUSTICE, JUSTICE

Dvar Torah on Parashat Lekh Lekha (Gen. 12:1 – 17:27) given on Friday evening 10/30/20

With this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Lekh Lekha, we leave behind the primeval stories of Creation and Flood.  Now the Torah sharpens its focus.  God calls Abraham to leave his homeland to go to a new land which God will show him. From here until the end of the Torah, the focus is on the development of the Jewish people – from family , to clan, to tribe, to nation. 

It all starts with a call from God.  In Genesis 12:1 God says to Abraham – Lekh Lekha – Go Forth!

And, as Debbie Friedman’s song suggest to us, that grammatically masculine command “Lekh Lekha” – “Go forth” to Abraham must surely have been matched by an analogous grammatically feminine command addressed to Sarah --  “Lekhi Lakh” – Go Forth!

But what should they do once they have gone forth?  God says in the very next verse – “Veheyey bracha” – BE A BLESSING!

To me this language suggests something deeply immersive – not just to DO good but to BE good.

That’s sometimes a tall order – especially when we are physically exhausted, or emotionally drained, or psychologically stressed.  And, when the daylight is getting scarce and the chills of approaching winter are approaching, it can be harder still.

How did our Biblical forbears Abraham and Sarah go about trying to be a blessing?

In Genesis 12:5, scripture tells us that they leave Charan and set out for Canaan with ‘Hanefesh asher asu vecharan.”   Our Plaut Torah commentary translates the words “Hanefesh asher asu vecharan” as “the persons they had acquired in Charan.” – in other words, Abraham and Sarah’s household servants from when they lived in Charan.  However, the words “hanefesh asher asu” can also – quite literally – be translated as “the souls which they made.”  Some traditional commentators interpret this to mean that Abraham and Sarah brought others to the belief in one God.

In the words of Rashi’s commentary – the phrase “hanefesh asher asu v’Charan” can be interpreted to mean:

The souls which he had brought beneath the sheltering wings of the Shechinah. Abraham would convert the men and Sarah would convert the women and Scripture accounts it unto them as if they had made them (Genesis Rabbah 39:14).

Rashi's comment leads us to reflect on how our religious beliefs should influence our societal actions.

Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, zichronah livrachah, had a sign in her office at the United States Supreme Court with the words “Tzedek, Tzedek, Tirdof” – “Justice, Justice You Shall Pursue”  --- a mitzvah that we find in our Torah.[1]

Her successor, Justice Amy Coney Barrett – though of a decidedly different judicial philosophy – is also informed by her religious background.  In a speech to graduating law school students at Notre Dame Law School in 2006, she expressed the hope that they would

“always keep in mind that your legal career is but a means to an end, and […] that end is building the kingdom of God.” [2]

I know that there is an incredible amount of angst going on right now, not only about Justice Comey’s views on particular legal issues, but also about the process by which she was named to the Supreme Court seat previously held by Justice Ginsburg.

But don’t forget that the prayers of our own tradition call upon each and every one of us --- in the words of the Aleinu  -- to see ourselves as part of a quest Letaken Olam bemalchut Shaddai --- “to repair the world under the kingdom of God.”  And in the V’ahavta (Deuteronomy 6: 5-9) we are instructed to share the teachings of Judaism “when we lie down and when we rise up, when we are sitting at home and when we are walking on the way.” And, not to forget our charge from the Book of Isaiah to be “a light unto the nations.”[3]

How to go about doing this, whether you are a Ruth Bader Ginsburg or an Amy Coney Barrett or just a random individual making your way in the world --- that is the question.

I know that when I davven the words of the Aleinu that calls for “tikkun olam” (“repairing the world”) “bmalchut Shaddai”  (“under the sovereign rule of God”) – I’m not thinking about actively proselytizing others, let alone discriminating against those who don’t share my religious beliefs.  Rather, the tikkun olam I pray for is for a world in which we treat our fellow people as having been created in the image of God, where we care for our planet as stewards of creation --- “guarding the garden” as Torah teaches God commanded the first human beings.  And for a world in which justice is doubled – TZEDEK, TZEDEK – which has been interpreted by various medieval Jewish commentators as referring to justice both in substance and in process.[4]

Jewish tradition welcomes and values debate – understanding that ultimate truth is beyond our comprehension and that vigorous but respectful disputation helps us approach truth and justice as best as we imperfect humans can manage it.

Let us hope and pray that all branches of government that emerge from the results of next week’s elections will lead to a more perfect union.  Faith can be a positive motivation for pursuing justice and equity in the world whether you are a Ruth Bader Ginsburg, or an Amy Coney Barrett or anyone of us.  But only if we maintain a sense of humility, and a respect for those whose traditions and outlook differ from our own.

Supreme Court sessions open with the clerk announcing : “God save the United States and this Honorable Court!"[5] 

To that all I can add is “Keyn Yehi Ratzon”

May that indeed be God’s will.

Shabbat shalom.

© Rabbi David Steinberg

Cheshvan 5781/ October 2020

[1] Deut. 16:20

[2] https://scholarship.law.nd.edu/commencement_programs/13/

[3] See Isaiah 42:6

[4] See, e.g., Plaut Torah Commentary, 2d edition, p. 1312.

[5] https://supremecourthistory.org/htcw_oralargument.html

RESPITE FOR THE FATIGUED

Dvar Torah on Parashat Noach  (Gen. 6:9 – 11:32) given on Friday evening 10/23/20

Torah teaches that the great flood described in Parashat Noach lasted forty days and forty nights.  However, it took a lot longer than that for the floodwaters to dry up sufficiently so that Noah and his family and the animals could leave the ark.  According to the chronology derived by the 11th century commentator Rashi, the residents of the Ark were cooped up in there for a full year. 

Dare I suggest that all of us in this pandemic era can personally empathize! 

Someone during our Torah study group earlier today said that all of us during the pandemic --- just like Noah and company during the flood --  have essentially been ordered to “Go to your Room!”  Whether by governmental order or just by our own health-based prudence, we are isolated and immobilized in ways we might not have imagined as being possible a year ago. 

And now, when we are moving into a third wave of rise in new infections, “pandemic fatigue” abounds.

This week’s Torah portion speaks to that fatigue.  But it also speaks to the hope of relief. 

Noah sends out a dove from the Ark three times.  The first time, as it says in Genesis 8:9

The dove could not find a resting place for its foot, and returned to him to the ark, for there was water over all the earth.

The second time, once the waters had receded at least from the tops of some trees, the dove comes back with a plucked off olive branch in its mouth. 

The third time, the dove must have found a place to land because on that third time, it doesn’t return – and that’s how Noah knew that relief was on the way.

According to midrash, it was on a Shabbat that the dove found a place to rest.  And so Judah halevi wrote a poem about it  -- “Yom Shabbaton”.

As beautifully translated by Reb Zalman Schachter Shalomi[1] – the poem teaches the message that just as the dove found respite from its troubles on Shabbat, so can we.  And so do we.

In the midrash collection Bereshit Rabbah (compiled around the second century of the common era), one of the sages asserts that the olive branch in the beak of Noah’s dove came from the Garden of Eden.[2]

However, when Noah and company subsequently emerge from the ark, it soon becomes clear that the new post-Flood world is no longer a Garden of Eden.  God had commanded the first humans – be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth. (Gen.1:28)

And now, God similarly commands Noah and his family – be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth. (Gen. 9:1)

Why the repetition?  The answer stares us in the face: Because all of humanity that had filled the earth thus far had drowned in the flood – all except Noah and his wife and three sons and daughters-in-law.

I know, we are dealing with ancient tales here.  The stuff of legends.  But any scholar will tell you there’s at least a foundation of historical truth here.  Back in the day there must have been some sort of major disaster that killed off a significant chunk of humanity.

Once again we are living in such a time.

Thank God for the front-line responders.  Thank God for those who are seeking to help those in need and for those who are seeking a vaccine and for those who are following the science and being prudent in their behaviors in order to help stem the pandemic.

And, in the meantime, may we find rest and respite from the weary toils of the week as did the dove in the days of Noah.

Shabbat shalom.   

© Rabbi David Steinberg

October 2020/ Cheshvan 5781

[1] https://opensiddur.org/prayers/solilunar/shabbat/seudah-shniyah/yom-shabbaton-a-shabbat-song-by-yehudah-halevi-interpretive-translation-by-rabbi-zalman-schachter-shalomi/

[2] Bereshit Rabbah 33:6

LAND AND PEOPLE

Dvar Torah for Parashat Ha’azinu/Shabbat Shuvah (2020/5781)

(Friday 9/25/20)

As you might imagine, I’m still pretty fully occupied with preparing for Yom Kippur which starts Sunday night.  Like many of my colleagues, who has time to write a substantial sermon for this Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur!?

That’s sort of ironic, since, apparently, in olden times, this particular Shabbat --- the Sabbath between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur – was one of only two times each year that a local rabbi would give a sermon.  Those two times were Shabbat Hagadol (the Sabbath before Passover – when the Rabbi would remind people about all the intricate rules for keeping Kosher for Passover) and Shabbat Shuvah (this Sabbath during the Aseret Ymei Teshuvah/10 Days of Repentance).  On Shabbat Shuvah the subject of the sermon would be essentially – REPENT YE SINNERS.

Well, it’s just as well I don’t have time to write a long sermon for this evening.  Teshuvah/Repentance is a journey that’s different for each individual --- even if we still root for each other in community.  What does it mean to return to God?  To recalibrate our moral sensors? To take stock of our souls? I don’t presume to tell you that. Each of us must search inside and listen to what that voice of conscience tells us.

So, I’ll just share one teaching about the Torah portion for this week that has intrigued me and that we discussed in our Friday noon Torah study earlier today.

The parasha this week “Ha’azinu” is mostly taken up by a “Shirah” --- a “poem” or “song” that Moses not only recites but also teaches to the Israelites.  As we learned in the previous Torah portion Vayelekh (which we read prior to Rosh Hashanah) –  God said to Moses:

“Therefore, write down this poem and teach it to the people of Israel; put it in their mouths, in order that this poem may be My witness against the people of Israel. When I bring them into the land flowing with milk and honey that I promised on oath to their fathers, and they eat their fill and grow fat and turn to other gods and serve them, spurning Me and breaking My covenant, and the many evils and troubles befall them—then this poem shall confront them as a witness, since it will never be lost from the mouth of their offspring. For I know what plans they are devising even now, before I bring them into the land that I promised on oath.“  That day, Moses wrote down this poem and taught it to the Israelites. (Deut. 31: 19-22)

So, as I was saying, that poem or song (the Hebrew word “shirah” can be translated either way) takes up most of this week’s Torah portion.  It starts out by invoking Heaven and Earth as witnesses, then it talks about how God has lovingly cared for the children of Israel but then Israel rebelled and served false Gods.  Adonai gets angry and punishes Israel, leaving Israel at the mercy of conquering nations.  But in the end God rescues Israel from those dangers.

The poem is linguistically archaic and in many places difficult to translate.  And there were varying ancient Hebrew manuscripts of the poem that led to varying versions.  All way too complicated to review right now.

But I’d just like to say a few words about the end of the poem:

The last three words in the poem, at Deuteronomy 32:43 are

וְכִפֶּ֥ר אַדְמָת֖וֹ עַמּֽוֹ׃

“And He will cleanse the land of His people”.

Sort of an ominous phrase, like in that old Twilight Zone episode where a book entitled “To Serve Man” turns out to be a cookbook authored by malevolent extraterrestrials…

However, the classic Jewish commentators say no – God is not going to wipe out all God’s people (i.e., us) from the land.  Rather, God will cleanse our people’s land.

Cleanse from what?  The sufferings of foreign occupation.  The sufferings of moral decay and material wants.

Nice.  But there are grammatical obstacles to that interpretation.  If you translate the Hebrew word for word

Vechiper --- Means “he will atone” – YEP that’s the same verb as in “Yom Kippur” “Day of Atonement” – which I guess we can think of as a day of spiritual cleansing. 

Admato means his land.

Amo means his people.

(It’s not in the correct grammatical form to imply that word “of” in the English translation. To do so the second word in the phrase would technically need to be “admat” rather than “admato.” )

So how then should we translate וְכִפֶּ֥ר אַדְמָת֖וֹ עַמּֽוֹ׃ / “vechiper admato amo?”

I’ll just share with you a commentary by Bechor Shor, who lived in France in the 12th century.  I had never come across this commentary before today but I find it resonates with me a lot:

As Rabbi Zev Farber writes in an article on the website www.thetorah.com

“R. Joseph Bechor Shor (12th cent) understood the verse as a promise that in the distant future, the people and the land would both be cleansed, and thus Israel would be able to resettle the land and return to its previous relationship with God.”[1]

And here’s that 12th century commentary:

וכפר אדמתו – מכל חט[א] ועון עמו – אדמתו הוא עמו, שיכפר על עמו, ולכך אדמה מכופרת, כיון שהעם מכופר, כמו: למה נמות לעיניך גם אנחנו גם אדמתינו. כי כשהעם מת – האדמה מתה, וכשהעם מכופר ומטוהר – האדמה מטוהרת ומכופרת. וזה יהיה לימות המשיח.

And his land will atone – from all sins and iniquities of his people – the land is equivalent to his people, for it atones for his people, that is why the land is atoned for, since the nation is atoned for […]  For when the nation dies the land dies, and when the people are atoned for and purified the land is purified and atoned for. This is a reference to the days of the messiah.[2]

What moves me about this commentary is how it emphasizes the visceral, fundamental connection between the Jewish people and the Land of Israel – something we can take for granted in the 21st century when we have a secure and flourishing State of Israel but which was only a dream during centuries of exile, including when Bechor Shor was writing his Torah commentary in the 12th century.

Israel, like the US and the rest of the world, is currently struggling with the corona virus and other woes.  But we can feel happy that in recent weeks expanded diplomatic relations have been achieved with the United Arab Emirates and Bahrain with more to come in the coming days and weeks.

One does not have to be a fan of the Trump administration or the Netanyahu administration to be encouraged by these developments.

As you may also know, these diplomatic breakthroughs were made possible by israel’s agreement to defer any talk of unilateral annexation of parts of the West Bank.  May this create a window of opportunity for progress in achieving a two-state solution for Israel and the Palestinians.

Shabbat shalom u’gmar chatimah tovah.

© Rabbi David Steinberg (September 2020/ Tishri 5781)

[1] https://www.thetorah.com/article/haazinu-the-songs-enigmatic-climax

[2] https://www.sefaria.org/Deuteronomy.32.43?lang=bi&aliyot=0&p2=Bekhor_Shor%2C_Deuteronomy.32.43.3&lang2=bi

BLACK LIVES MATTER

Sermon for Yom Kippur morning 5781

September 28, 2020

Whenever we gather for worship – whether in person or online – much of our focus is on our personal joys and woes and concerns.  But we also know that we are part of a larger web of society, a larger web of existence.  Indeed, there is much classic commentary about how when our ancestors built the mishkan, the desert tabernacle described in the second half of the Book of Exodus, they were symbolically building a miniature version of the entire universe.

And as for our literary heritage, our tradition teaches in Pirke Avot that when considering Torah --- הֲפֹךְ בָּהּ וַהֲפֹךְ בָּהּ, דְּכֹלָּא בָהּ     Turn it, and turn it, for everything is in it![1]

The bottom line being – our tradition encourages us to consider the larger implications of what we do, and what we say, and what we reflect upon in the smaller circles of our households and our congregations.

In that vein, I’d like to remind us of the passage from Talmud that we read near the start of our Kol Nidre service last night, just before we plunged into Kol Nidre itself.  It’s a quote from the Talmud, which itself is a quotation from the earlier corpus of Jewish law known as the Mishnah: 

עֲבֵרוֹת שֶׁבֵּין אָדָם לַמָּקוֹם, יוֹם הַכִּפּוּרִים מְכַפֵּר. עֲבֵרוֹת שֶׁבֵּין אָדָם לַחֲבֵרוֹ, אֵין יוֹם הַכִּפּוּרִים מְכַפֵּר, עַד שֶׁיְּרַצֶּה אֶת חֲבֵרוֹ.

Only for transgressions against the Everpresent can Yom Kippur bring atonement. For transgressions between one person and another, Yom Kippur does not bring atonement until one’s fellow has been reconciled.

Our nation (and indeed many nations, but let’s focus on the United States for now) --- our nation is now engaged in an impassioned effort to address the colossal, centuries-long transgression of racism – truly an AVERAH SHEBEYN ADAM LACHAVERO – a transgression between one person and another --- but a transgression that is writ large over the whole society. 

And so, the slogan of our day, which has become the name of a huge movement for social change is BLACK LIVES MATTER. 

Now, of course, Black people are not the only people in our society who have experienced or who do experience invidious discrimination.  American history is littered with numerous examples of violence, bias and hatred against Indigenous Native peoples, against Chinese people, against Japanese people, against Jews, against LGBT people, against Muslims, against Catholics, against Arabs, against Sikhs – the list can go on and on.  Make no mistake ---  ALL OF THESE LIVES MATTER.

As we learn in another classic teaching from the Mishnah:

Tractate Sanhedrin 4:5 –

לְפִיכָךְ נִבְרָא אָדָם יְחִידִי, לְלַמֶּדְךָ, שֶׁכָּל הַמְאַבֵּד נֶפֶשׁ אַחַת מִבני אדם, מַעֲלֶה עָלָיו הַכָּתוּב כְּאִלּוּ אִבֵּד עוֹלָם מָלֵא. וְכָל הַמְקַיֵּם נֶפֶשׁ אַחַת מִבני אדם, מַעֲלֶה עָלָיו הַכָּתוּב כְּאִלּוּ קִיֵּם עוֹלָם מָלֵא

Therefore, humanity was created from a single individual, to teach you that anyone who destroys one human soul, it as if they had destroyed an entire world, and anyone who sustains one human soul, it is as if they have sustained an entire world. […]  And (this serves) to tell of the greatness of the Blessed Holy One, in that (when) a person stamps several coins with one seal, they are all similar to each other. But the supreme Sovereign of Sovereigns, the Blessed Holy One, stamped all people with the seal of the first human, yet not one of them is similar to another. Therefore, each and every person is obligated to say: The world was created for my sake.  

In other words, not only do ALL LIVES MATTER – but ALL LIVES ARE OF INFINTE WORTH. 

And so, when we say BLACK LIVES MATTER, that is not to say that non-Black lives don’t matter as well.  Rather, it is to say that, Black lives right now need to be at the top of the societal agenda because of the  . עֲבֵרוֹת שֶׁבֵּין אָדָם לַחֲבֵרוֹ --- the interpersonal transgressions – which have reached crisis proportions.

This afternoon, we’ll be doing the Yom Kippur martyrology service.  That liturgy originated in the Middle Ages and might perhaps alternatively be titled “JEWISH LIVES MATTER.” 

Rabbi David Greenspoon describes it as follows.  He writes:

“[The Martyrology]  section of the service combines the Talmudic accounts of ten ancient rabbis martyred by the Romans. Later, these accounts were retold as medieval Jewish stories, and even later, reframed into the liturgical expression we have today. Undoubtedly the Ashkenazi Jews who introduced this new liturgy in their day were motivated by the historical memory of the Crusades.  For them, it was their ancestors who were executed by “the new Rome”, the Church, which was recalled by this dirge. The idea of a minyan of Torah scholars executed by Rome was understood as an attack against the Torah and the entire Jewish people. The survival of both despite the genocidal efforts of Rome was redolent with meaning for the survivors of the Crusades.[2]

We will actually be using a contemporary version of the Martyrology this afternoon, but, nevertheless, it still focuses primarily on the Jewish experience.

And, of course, let us not forget that that the categories of “Jew and “Black” are by no means mutually exclusive – not in the United States nor in Israel nor anywhere in the world. I hope we are all well aware of that.

But, nevertheless, since we will be centering the experience of Jewish martyrs later today, let us take this moment, right now, to center the experience of Black Martyrs of our day.

Here are the names of some Black Americans who were gunned down just in the past several years by police officers or by vigilantes purporting to act as such:

Trayvon Martin

Michael Brown

Eric Garner 

Ezell Ford

Michelle Cusseaux

Tanisha Anderson

Tamir Rice

Natasha McKenna

Walter Scott

Bettie Jones

Philando Castile

Botham Jean

Atatiana Jefferson 

Eric Reason 

Dominique Clayton 

Ahmaud Aubrey

Daniel Prude

Breonna Taylor 

George Floyd 

Rayshard Brooks.

Borrowing the words of the Yom Kippur martyrology liturgy ---

Eyleh ezkerah v’nafshi alay eshpechah./ These I remember and pour out my soul within me. 

Those are the first words of the traditional Yom Kippur martyrology liturgy.

Eyleh ezkerah v’nafshi alay eshpechah./ These I remember and pour out my soul within me.  

And I don’t think any of us can argue with that sentiment with respect to those Black Americans whose names I have just recalled.

But if we read the full opening line of the Yom Kippur martyrology liturgy and try to apply it to the American context, it gets more divisive:

אֵֽלֶּה אֶזְכְּרָה וְנַפְשִׁי עָלַי אֶשְׁפְּכָה. כִּי בְלָעֽוּנוּ זֵדִים כְּעֻגָה בְּלִי הֲפוּכָה[3]

“These I remember and pour out my soul within me – for evil ones have devoured us and eagerly consumed us.”

But is that the case?  Are all of the killers of all of these contemporary martyrs evil?  In some cases, we cannot deny it.  Nonchalantly keeping your foot on a human being’s neck for more than seven minutes while that person calls out for his mother with his dying breath?  What kind of monster does such a thing?

Travesties such as this have prompted widespread calls for defunding the police or even for abolishing the police.

But at the same time, other voices say what we need to do is just to reform the police.  To stamp our racism in its ranks.  To lessen the power of police unions that shield officers from responsibility for their actions.  To ban chokeholds and no-knock search warrants.

Would that it were so simple.

Some of these tragic occurrences, perhaps most of them, were the result of police officers acting too recklessly out of fear for their own lives.  And some of those instances of subjective fears, perhaps most of them, were the result of those officers being triggered by implicit racist biases.

And yet, we need the police.  Even in Minneapolis, the site of the killing of George Floyd, a poll taken last month by the Minneapolis Star-Tribune reported that among Black residents in Minneapolis, opposition to cutting police officers reached 50%, while only 35% said they agreed with defunding the police as had been demanded by some activists and by the Minneapolis City Council.[4]  Just yesterday there was a front page story in the New York Times entitled (in its print edition) “A Quiet Retreat From ‘Defund’ In Minneapolis” and entitled (in its online version) “How a Pledge to Dismantle the Minneapolis Police Collapsed.” 

Here’s a particularly striking excerpt from that article, which was written by New York Times reporter Astead W. Herndon, who is himself Black.

Herndon writes:

Hanging over the debate was a surge in gun violence in Minneapolis this summer, with some community groups in Black neighborhoods worried that urgent needs for change had been crowded out by the big-picture focus on police funding and oversight. Cathy Spann, a community activist who works in North Minneapolis, which is home to many of the city’s Black residents, said those paying the price for the city’s political paralysis were the exact communities that leaders had pledged to help. She is in favor of more police officers.

“They didn’t engage Black and brown people,” Ms. Spann said, referring to the City Council members. “And something about that does not sit right with me. Something about saying to the community, ‘We need to make change together,’ but instead you leave this community and me unsafe.”[5]

It is a shame that the transgressions of some police officers have stained the whole institution in the eyes of some. 

True, I am white, and like most white people I have always been taught that the police are here to help keep us safe.  Yet I still believe that the majority of individuals who undertake such a profession do so out of a desire to be of service to society.

In the wake of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s death, many have noted that she had a poster in her office that said “Tzedek, Tzedek tirdof” – Justice, justice you shall pursue.  A phrase found in Deuteronomy 16:20.

But we also need to remember that in that same section of Torah, just two verses earlier at Deuteronomy 16:18  -- the Torah stresses the need for – to use a phrase that has become increasingly politicized in our fragmented society --  “law and order”

As it says in Deuteronomy 16:18:

שֹׁפְטִ֣ים וְשֹֽׁטְרִ֗ים תִּֽתֶּן־לְךָ֙ בְּכָל־שְׁעָרֶ֔יךָ אֲשֶׁ֨ר יְהוָ֧ה אֱלֹהֶ֛יךָ נֹתֵ֥ן לְךָ֖ לִשְׁבָטֶ֑יךָ וְשָׁפְט֥וּ אֶת־הָעָ֖ם מִשְׁפַּט־צֶֽדֶק׃

You shall appoint judges and officers for your tribes, in all the settlements that the Eternal your God is giving you, and they shall govern the people with due justice.

(And, lest there is any doubt, that Hebrew word “shotrim” –translated here as “officers” is the modern Hebrew word for police officers.)

These are life and death matters. 

And Black lives matter – the lives of Black people who have been killed by police as well as the lives of those police officers, police chiefs and mayors who are themselves Black  -- and there are many – including one of the officers charged in the death of George Floyd.

Writers such as Robin D’Angelo assert that implicit racism is simply built into the fabric of our whole society and that none of us can avoid it.  That we need to take affirmative steps to combat it.  We’ll be having a book discussion group on D’Angelo’s book “White Fragility” starting late next month and facilitated by Temple member and UMD sociology professor Sheryl Grana.  I hope some of you will consider joining us for it.

And this afternoon at 1:30 p.m., our annual Yom Kippur community discussion will be on the theme: “Teshuvah for healing within and between communities.”  Panelists will be addressing how issues of systemic racism affect approaches to criminal justice, immigration, environment and education. 

Finally, I commend to your attention an initiative of the Union for Reform Judaism’s Religious Action Center. 
They are encouraging us to write our elected officials in support of the George Floyd Justice in Policing Act, , which has been passed by the U.S. House of Representatives but which still awaits a vote in the U.S. Senate.  As summarized on the Religious Action Center website: 

The George Floyd Justice in Policing Act is a first step in meaningful police reform legislation. This bill:

Prohibits racial, religious, and discriminatory profiling by federal, state, and local law enforcement.

Establishes a national use of force standard that requires law enforcement officers to employ de-escalation techniques and only use deadly force as a last resort.

Deems maneuvers that restrict the flow of blood or oxygen to the brain by law enforcement to be federal civil rights violations.

[And] Requires state and local law enforcement agencies to report use of force data, disaggregated by race, sex, disability, religion, age.

Enacting these reforms will not only make our communities safer, but also begin the process of confronting racism in policing. During this time of mourning, Congress can take meaningful action to ensure that all people are protected equally under the law and protect communities of Color.

The summary on the RAC website concludes by saying:   Join us in calling on the Senate to address systemic racial injustice and reform police practices. [6]

There is a long way to go given how ingrained systemic racism is in our society.

But, to conclude with another well-known teaching from our tradition:

לֹא עָלֶיךָ הַמְּלָאכָה לִגְמֹר, וְלֹא אַתָּה בֶן חוֹרִין לִבָּטֵל מִמֶּנָּה

Lo alecha hamlacha ligmor v’lo atah ben chorin l’hivatel mimena- “you are not obligated to finish the work, but nor are you free to desist from it.”[7]

Indeed, may we not desist.   

Gmar Chatimah Tovah.

© Rabbi David Steinberg (September 2020/ Tishri5781)

[1] Pirke Avot 5:22

[2] https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/eleh-ezkerah-these-i-remember/

[3] Note, some machzorim have the text saying זרים rather than זדים translating it variously as “evil” or “arrogant” or “wicked.”  The version I’m basing this sermon is uses זדים (See, https://www.sefaria.org/Machzor_Yom_Kippur_Ashkenaz%2C_Musaf_for_Yom_Kippur%2C_The_Ten_Martyrs?lang=bi )

[4] https://www.startribune.com/poll-cuts-to-minneapolis-police-ranks-lack-majority-support/572119932/

[5] https://www.nytimes.com/2020/09/26/us/politics/minneapolis-defund-police.html?searchResultPosition=1

[6] https://cqrcengage.com/reformjudaism/app/write-a-letter?0&engagementId=508241

[7] Pirke Avot 2:16

CURTAINS

Sermon for Kol Nidre night 5781

September 27, 2020

“Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!”

Do most of you recognize that line?  It’s from the movie the Wizard of Oz.  It’s spoken by the Wizard himself, played by Frank Morgan.  An article in the website www.shmoop.com sets the context:

“If you were in Dorothy's shoes (or should we say slippers?), the name the Wizard of Oz would sound magical. Who is this grand Wizard of Oz? He must be amazing, right?   Well, it turns out the Wizard of Oz isn't all he's cracked up to be. When Dorothy, the Tin Man, the Cowardly Lion, and the Scarecrow all find the Wizard, they hear a loud voice booming all around them, telling them to come back another time. It almost sounds as if the Wizard of Oz is some kind of god, sending his message down from the clouds.  But then Toto, Dorothy's dog, discovers that the Wizard is no god. In fact, he's just a guy operating a bunch of controls behind a green curtain. When Toto rips the curtain to the side, the Wizard of Oz realizes he's been found out, and tries to cover it up by shouting over his loudspeaker, "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!"[1]

What does all this have to do with Yom Kippur you may ask?

Well, in recent days I have been thinking about the connection between “the man behind the curtain” in the Wizard of Oz and “the man behind the curtain” – aka the Kohen Gadol or High Priest – in the ancient rites of Yom Kippur.

In our Torah reading for tomorrow morning, Leviticus 16, it says:

 1 “Adonai spoke to Moses after the death of the two sons of Aaron who died when they drew too close to the presence of the Eternal. 2 Adonai said to Moses: Tell your brother Aaron that he is not to come at will into the Shrine behind the curtain, in front of the cover that is upon the ark, lest he die; for I appear in the cloud over the cover.”

The Torah is speaking of the Mishkan, the portable shrine that the people carried around with them in the wilderness and that tradition teaches was the predecessor of the more elaborate Bet Hamikdash – the Temple that King Solomon built in Jerusalem in the 10th century B.C.E.  The Bet Hamikdash was destroyed by the Babylonians in 586 B.C.E., rebuilt on a possibly smaller scale some seventy years later, and then destroyed again by the Romans in 70 C.E.

Tradition teaches that when those first and second Temples stood, the Kohen Gadol  or High Priest would go מבית לפרכת (behind the curtain) to the innermost sanctuary, the Holy of Holies, once a year – on Yom Kippur—to bring about atonement for himself, for his household, for his fellow Kohanim, and for the nation as a whole.

For our ancestors, this was the real thing.  It was no fake gimmicry as in the Wizard of Oz. 

And when it all came to a violent and tragic end in 70 C.E., that could have been the end of Judaism itself.

However, that was not the end of Judaism.  As is taught in the classic text Avot de Rabbi Natan ---

“Once Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai was leaving Jerusalem, and his student Rabbi Joshua followed him. Seeing the Temple in ruins, Rabbi Joshua said: “Woe are we! For we see in ruins the place where Israel’s sins could be atoned for!” Then Rabban Yoḥanan told him: “Be not upset, my son. There is another way of gaining atonement that is just as effective. That is: deeds of lovingkindness.” For it is written, “I desire lovingkindness, not sacrifice” (Hosea 6).[2] “

However, even then, a nostalgic longing remained for the former glorious era of the days of the Temple.  Which is how it comes to pass that our liturgy includes evocations of those sacrifices that were offered up in days of old. In Tractate Ta’anit of the Talmud, the sages portray Abraham asking God what would happen to the Jewish people in the future if the Temple were destroyed and sacrificial offerings could no longer be brought. God answers Abraham saying: 

כבר תקנתי להם סדר קרבנות. בזמן שקוראין בהן לפני, מעלה אני עליהם כאילו הקריבום לפני -- ואני מוחל להם על כל עונותיהם

“I have already enacted for them the order of offerings. When they read them before Me, I will ascribe them credit as though they had sacrificed them before Me -- and I will pardon them for all their transgressions. [3]”

That reading takes on especially elaborate form in the liturgy of Yom Kippur when we read Seder Avodah , which we’ll be doing tomorrow afternoon at 4:30 p.m.

Our machzor translates “Seder Avodah” as “Avodah Service”.  And this part of the Yom Kippur liturgy is often called “The Service of the Kohen Gadol” or “The Service of the High Priest.”

However, as many of you may know – the word “Seder” – which is its official title – doesn’t mean “Service” .  Seder means “Order”.  And hearing that word “Seder” --- a word I’m sure you all know --- reminds us of what other important Jewish holiday?

Passover, of course. 

I think it’s no coincidence that our tradition refers to the Service of the Kohen Gadol in the Yom Kippur liturgy as a “SEDER”   - reminding us of the “SEDER” we gather for on Passover night.

At the Passover “SEDER” we are invited to imagine that we ourselves are there --- that we ourselves are going forth out of slavery to freedom.

And on Yom Kippur, when we read the “SEDER” of the Kohen Gadol we are invited to think of ourselves as if we ourselves are there --- that we are standing in the courtyard of the Bet Hamikdash, that we ourselves are hearing the High Priest from behind the curtain/ מבית לפרכת pronouncing the explicit name of God that only he can pronounce, only in that one place, only on that one day of the year – Yom Kippur.

And hearing that name we would fall on our faces and shout in response:  BARUKH SHEM KEVOD MALCHUTO LE’OLAM VA’ED --- Blessed be the Name of God’s sovereign Presence forever and ever -- as the Kohen Gadol would intone the critical verse:

כִּֽי־בַיּ֥וֹם הַזֶּ֛ה יְכַפֵּ֥ר עֲלֵיכֶ֖ם לְטַהֵ֣ר אֶתְכֶ֑ם מִכֹּל֙ חַטֹּ֣אתֵיכֶ֔ם לִפְנֵ֥י יְהוָ֖ה תִּטְהָֽרוּ׃

“For on this day atonement shall be made for you to cleanse you of all your sins; you shall be clean before Adonai.” [4]

What might these dramatic re-enactments in Jewish ritual do for us today? 

On Passover, we are challenged to internalize what freedom means in our lives --- and how we might expand the bounds of freedom in the world at large.

On Yom Kippur, we are challenged to internalize what true reconciliation means in our lives – between ourselves and those closest to us and between ourselves and God --- and how we might expand the bounds of reconciliation in the world at large.

When I think about Seder Avodah, about this admittedly strange ancient tableau of 2nd Temple Era ritual life,  what most strikes me is the image of the crowds of people gathered together in unity and commitment.  This aspect is particularly striking because there was never any mitzvah in the era of the 1st and 2nd Temples for the population to make pilgrimage to Jerusalem for Yom Kippur.  Our “Shalosh Regalim” , our “Three Pilgrimage Festivals” in Judaism were and are Passover, Shavuot and Sukkot.  However, as Rabbi Reuven Hammer explains in his book “Entering the High Holy Days”:

“The Yom Kippur rite of the High Priest in the Second Temple was without doubt the most impressive and important ritual of ancient Judaism.  In the course of time, it became the most solemn moment of the Jewish year, the moment in which the key elements of holiness come together:  the holiest individual, the holiest time, the holiest place.  The result was that although Yom Kippur is not one of the festivals when Jews are commanded to attend the Temple in Jerusalem, multitudes thronged there to witness the ritual and to hear the words of the High Priest […] From a religious standpoint, it was of supreme importance as the time when forgiveness and atonement could be attained.” [5]

Those multitudes did not have to be there.  But yet they came.

I imagine that they felt that that were aspects of their lives that had gotten out of sync.  That somehow the lives they were leading were not what they could be. 

But this magic of the Kohen Gadol doing whatever it was he was doing behind that curtain, that this would make everything all better – that this would MAKE JUDEA GREAT AGAIN.

As for you and I, methinks we’re more like Dorothy and her friends than we are like our ancestors gathered in that Temple courtyard. 

We can see behind the curtain.

We know that it all can’t just be done FOR US.

We know that we, ourselves, have work to do if we are to make America great again – or if we are to make America great for the first time – let alone if we are to heal the world at large.

These prayers, these rituals, these hymns – they can inspire us, they can motivate us, they can comfort us.  I know they do for me.

But the work remains.

Some versions of Seder Avodah feature this wistful concluding observation ---

אַשְׁרֵי עַֽיִן רָאֲתָה כָל אֵֽלֶּה

“HAPPY IS THE EYE THAT SAW ALL THIS!”

For us it’s not so simple.

But we remain full of hope and determination.

Gmar chatimah tovah/ May we all be sealed in the Book of Life for a good year – us, our families, our friends, our country, our world.

Amen.

© Rabbi David Steinberg (September 2020/ Tishri 5781)

[1] https://www.shmoop.com/quotes/pay-no-attention-man-behind-the-curtain.html

[2] Avot de-Rabbi Natan 11a (translation : Rabbi Ron Aigen)

[3] Ta’anit 27b

[4] Lev. 16:20

[5] Reuven Hammer, Entering the High Holy Days, pp. 156-157.

EVEN MORE SO

Sermon for First Day of Rosh Hashanah 5781

September 19, 2020

(Note: This sermon, like all my recent sermons, was delivered over Zoom. The text below includes some “stage directions".” and a link to a picture on Twitter that is worth clicking on to get the full effect of my words.)

Last night I started my Rosh Hashanah evening sermon by observing that this is not a normal year.

But another way of looking at it is that this is a hyper-normal year.

Other years we have faced the devastating effects of climate change.  This year even more so.

Other years our consciences have been prodded by the prevalence of racism in our country.  This year even more so.

Other years we have been confronted by societal fissures between the political left and the political right --- with each side getting more and more challenged by its most extreme elements. This year even more so.

Our tradition expresses the hope for social harmony – As it says in the Shacharit Amidah:   Barcheinu avinu kulanu ke’echad be’or panekha

“Bless us, O heavenly parent, all of us, as one. with the light of your presence”  --

BUT THIS YEAR WE ARE SO FAR FROM THAT IDEAL.

A Presidential election looms in which millions of our fellow Americans are convinced that the future of the nation hangs in the balance depending on whether or not their candidate of choice is victorious. 

And millions of our fellow Americans are frightened that the election itself will be marred by fraud.

The other day I even found myself saying out loud while alone in my living room –

“Okay Vladimir Putin.  You win.  I no longer have trust in the integrity of the American political process.” 

And so, we must not just make sure to vote.  We must also make sure that our ballot gets delivered and counted.

As a former First Lady advised one recent evening: 

We've got to vote early, in person if we can. We've got to request our mail-in ballots right now, tonight, and send them back immediately and follow-up to make sure they're received. And then, make sure our friends and families do the same. We have got to grab our comfortable shoes, put on our masks, pack a brown bag dinner and maybe breakfast too, because we've got to be willing to stand in line all night if we have to.[1]

In this upcoming election, I know who I support.

And let me be sure to share with you that there are people I love and respect who support the other side.

And I pray that, as a nation, we can somehow reconcile and come together no matter what happens later this fall.

Barcheinu avinu kulanu ke’echad be’or panekha

Bless us, O heavenly parent, all of us, as one. with the light of your presence  --

May that light shine upon us all – Jews and non-Jews, Republicans (both Trumpists and never-Trumpers and Democrats (both the woke and the not-yet-woke) , both Blacks and Whites and every shade of skin color in between, both gays and straights and every orientation in between, both men and women and every gender in between.

***************

And then there’s the pandemic.

Those gut-wrenching questions in Unetaneh Tokef resonate so strongly this year:  

“How many shall pass away and how many shall be born,

who shall live and who shall die,

who in the fullness of years and who before their time.

Who by fire and who by water,

who by the sword and who by wild beast,

who by hunger and who by thirst,

who by earthquake and who by plague, “

What are the answers to those questions?

At this juncture, we do not know.  But we do know that in the past few months over 190,000 of our fellow Americans have died from coronavirus-related causes. 

Last week, on the 19th anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 11th, 2001, I wrote to some friends:

“3000 dead in 2001, I'm angry. 190,000 dead in 2020, I'm numb. Or maybe it's vice versa.”

The other day when I was davening the weekday morning Shacharit service at home I found myself focusing on one particular phrase.  That phrase is found in the Tachanun prayers that traditionally follow the weekday morning Amidah:

ּ וַאֲנַ֗חְנוּ לֹ֤א נֵדַע֙ מַֽה־נַּעֲשֶׂ֔ה כִּ֥י עָלֶ֖יךָ עֵינֵֽינוּ׃

“And as for us, we do not know what to do, but our eyes are on You.”

That might sound like a passive, fatalistic approach to life

אֲנַ֗חְנוּ לֹ֤א נֵדַע֙ מַֽה־נַּעֲשֶׂ֔ה כִּ֥י עָלֶ֖יךָ עֵינֵֽינוּ׃

“And as for us, we do not know what to do, but our eyes are on You.”

Some background:  During most of the weekday morning prayers it’s fine to be sitting.  Then, at the Amidah, it’s traditional to stand. But during Tachanun (which means “supplication”) it’s traditional to sit, lean forward, and rest your head on your arm.

[DEMONSTRATE THIS]

In that cowering position we say, quoting Psalm 6  ---

חָנֵּ֥נִי יְ-ה-וָ-ה֮ כִּ֤י אֻמְלַ֫ל אָ֥נִי רְפָאֵ֥נִי יְ-ה-וָ֑-ה כִּ֖י נִבְהֲל֣וּ עֲצָמָֽי׃

Have mercy on me, Adonai, for I languish; heal me, Adonai, for my bones shake with terror.

וְ֭נַפְשִׁי נִבְהֲלָ֣ה מְאֹ֑ד ואת [וְאַתָּ֥ה] יְ֝-ה-ו-ָ֗ה עַד־מָתָֽי׃

My whole being is stricken with terror, and You, Adonai—O, how long!

שׁוּבָ֣ה יְ֭-ה-וָ-ה חַלְּצָ֣ה נַפְשִׁ֑י ה֝וֹשִׁיעֵ֗נִי לְמַ֣עַן חַסְדֶּֽךָ׃

Turn, Adonai, set my soul free! Save me for the sake of your love!

My friends, I ask you, in the past year, how many of us cannot say that we have had days that make us feel like that?

But. funny thing though…

A few paragraphs later in Tachanun, when we get to the phrase I mentioned before: 

וַאֲנַ֗חְנוּ לֹ֤א נֵדַע֙ מַֽה־נַּעֲשֶׂ֔ה כִּ֥י עָלֶ֖יךָ עֵינֵֽינוּ׃

“And as for us, we do not know what to do, but our eyes are on You.”

When we get to that phrase it is traditional to stand upright. 

For me, doing so produces a visceral effect.  It’s like the authors of the siddur are saying --- “Okay.  Stand tall. Enough moping around. Let’s see what we can do about whatever is ailing us.  Let’s see what we can do about whatever is ailing the world. Let’s see what we can do (in the words of the Aleinu) “Letaken olam bemalchut shaddai” / “to repair the world through God’s divine power.”    

**********

So much of our lives is dependent on our personal outlooks.  Is the glass half empty or half full?

When you see a picture like this:

https://twitter.com/NAChristakis/status/1305263928528777223/photo/1

DO YOU READ THIS AS --- You don’t matter. Give up!

OR --- “You matter!  Don’t give up!”

During the past few months, I have made (or at least attempted to make) check in phone calls with every member household in our congregation.  And our dedicated Temple Board members did so as well. 

Some of us were struggling emotionally and/or financially. 

To all of them let me say [RESUME SCREEN SHARE OF TWITTER IMAGE]– You matter! Don’t give up!

[STOP SCREEN SHARE]

At the same time, as I personally experienced, and as I learned from my conversations with many of you --- even with all of the disease and strife in the world around us --- we still recognize that we are blessed to be living in this beautiful place. 

And we know --- WE KNOW ----that --- in this congregation – we are among friends.  And we know – WE KNOW --- that --- in this life --- “We are loved by an unending love”[2] ---  אהבת עולם

It is indeed a challenge --- to be present with the hardships of others and of our own while at the same time acknowledging and being thankful for our blessings. 

Life is like that. 

This past year ---  even more so.

In the year to come, though it may seem like -- וַאֲנַ֗חְנוּ לֹ֤א נֵדַע֙ מַֽה־נַּעֲשֶׂ֔ה we just do not know what we shall do ---  don’t give up.  You matter. And there are manifold blessings waiting in store for us each and every day when we are ready to open ourselves to them. 

And there is much to be done.

May we be active participants in the year to come in the healing of our bodies, in the healing of our souls, in the healing of our country, in the healing of our world.

Leshanah tovah tikatevu  May we be inscribed in the Book of Life for a sweet and healthy year.

Amen

(c) Rabbi David Steinberg (September 2020/ Tishri 5781)

[1] https://www.cnn.com/2020/08/17/politics/michelle-obama-speech-transcript/index.html

[2] See Rabbi Rami Shapiro, “Unending Love” (as adapted and used in Kol Haneshama Shabbat Vehagim siddur, page 61)