All the Community

(Dvar Torah delivered Friday evening 5/4/12 - Shabbat Acharei Mot - Kedoshim)

I still receive in the mail each month the bulletin from Temple Beth Israel, in Plattsburgh, New York, where I served as rabbi from 1999 to 2005.  In this month’s article from Temple Beth Israel’s current president Larry Soroka, Larry questions the fact that they have American and Israeli flags on the bima of their sanctuary. 

In my last position before coming to Duluth, at Ohavi Zedek Synagogue in Burlington, Vermont, there were no flags in the sanctuary and it would have been very controversial to introduce them there.

Here at Temple Israel, I’m personally very happy that we have the American and Israeli flags on our bima.  To my mind, the presence of the Israeli flag on our bima reminds us that, as Jews, we are connected by history and faith to the ancestral homeland of our people.  Amid all its achievements and amid all its challenges --  the security and well-being of the State of Israel is of critical important to our Jewish identity.    

And it has long been the Jewish custom to pray for the well-being of the country in which we live, back to the time of the Babylonian exile, as we learn from the words of Jeremiah 29:7 ---

ז וְדִרְשׁוּ אֶת-שְׁלוֹם הָעִיר, אֲשֶׁר הִגְלֵיתִי אֶתְכֶם שָׁמָּה, וְהִתְפַּלְלוּ בַעֲדָהּ, אֶל-יְהוָה: כִּי בִשְׁלוֹמָהּ, יִהְיֶה לָכֶם שָׁלוֹם.	7 Seek the welfare of the city to which I have exiled you, and pray to the Eternal in its behalf; for in its peace shall you have peace.

The presence of the American flag on our bima reminds us not only of Jeremiah’s ancient message, but also of the special blessings that we have as Americans.  For the United States, amid all its achievements and all its challenges, remains unique in the history of the world with respect to the opportunities for integration and security that it has afforded the Jewish people. 

President George Washington famously gave expression to these sentiments in his letter to the members of the Touro, Rhode Island Jewish community in 1790.  He wrote:

"It is now no more that toleration is spoken of as if it were the indulgence of one class of people that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights, for, happily, the Government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance, requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens in giving it on all occasions their effectual support. […]

"May the children of the stock of Abraham who dwell in this land continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other inhabitants—while every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and fig tree and there shall be none to make him afraid."

How do we apply the teachings of our Jewish tradition to our contemporary situation as citizens and residents of this country?

Parshat Kedoshim, the second of the two Torah portions in this week’s double portion Acharei Mot – Kedoshim, prompts us to reflect on how we are called upon to concern ourselves with the needs of the community.

The parasha begins (at Lev. 19: 1-2): 

א וַיְדַבֵּר יְהוָה, אֶל-מֹשֶׁה לֵּאמֹר.	1 The Eternal spoke to Moses, saying:
ב דַּבֵּר אֶל-כָּל-עֲדַת בְּנֵי-יִשְׂרָאֵל, וְאָמַרְתָּ אֲלֵהֶם--קְדֹשִׁים תִּהְיוּ: כִּי קָדוֹשׁ, אֲנִי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם.	2 Speak to all the community of the children of Israel, and you shall say to them: You shall be holy; for I the Eternal your God am holy.

“Kawl adat bney yisra’el”/ “all the community of the Children of Israel” –   This is a very rare formulation in the Torah.  Usually the text says simply  “daber el bney yisra’el”/ “speak to the children of Israel” – but here, with respect to the commandment to be holy, the text says not just “speak to the children of Israel” but rather “speak to the whole community of the children of Israel.”

The medieval commentator Rashi explains that this means that the mitzvot outlined in Leviticus 19, including such famous ones as

·         Loving your neighbor as yourself  ---  and

·         Not standing idly by the blood of your neighbor --- and

·         Rising before the aged and showing deference to the old --- and

·         Leaving the gleanings of your harvest for the poor and the stranger – and

·         Not falsifying measures of length, weight or capacity

That all these mitzvot were conveyed to all the people together, whereas the other commandments were relayed by Moses to small groups at a time (Rashi on Lev. 19:2).

But, why were these precepts so important as to require that they be spoken in full assembly?  The classic midrash “Sifra” explains that the commandments in Leviticus 19 include a repetition or paraphrase of all of the Ten Commandments.  And Nachmanides, (the Spanish Jewish commentator who lived from 1195 to 1270) further observes that the command “You shall be holy for I the Eternal your God am holy” implies that we should go beyond the letter of the law in seeking moderation in personal behavior and compromise in our interpersonal dealings.  (See Nachmanides on Lev. 19:2)

Holiness/kedushah is thus an overall way of relating to one another, of establishing the social contract for our community, and of coming nearer to God. 

What about this “kawl adat bnei yisra’el” (“The whole community of the children of Israel) of which the Torah speaks, and which Rashi describes as a “hakhel” (“public assembly”) –  a word linguistically related to the word “kehillah” meaning “congregation?”

Two major implications flow from this:

First – That being holy is the task for every person in the community, not just an especially pious few, not just an elite leadership.  Rather, each one of us should seek out ways to be Godly in our own conduct.

Second – Following the teaching of the Sefat Emet – that we should seek the path of holiness with every part of our being, for the Sefat Emet (also known as Rabbi Yehudah Leib Alter of Ger who lived from 1847 to 1905) –taught that the “congregation” or “community” or “assembly” referred to in Leviticus 19:2 also refers to the assembly of 248 limbs and body parts within each person.  (See Rabbi Arthur Green, The Language of Truth: The Torah Commentary of the Sefat Emet, Jewish Publication Society, 1998, p. 186)

Just as in the words of the Shema in Deuteronomy 6 where we speak of loving God, bechawl levavekha, uvekhawl nafshekha, uvekhawl me’dekha --  with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your might.”

Ultimately, the verse: 

ב דַּבֵּר אֶל-כָּל-עֲדַת בְּנֵי-יִשְׂרָאֵל, וְאָמַרְתָּ אֲלֵהֶם--קְדֹשִׁים תִּהְיוּ: כִּי קָדוֹשׁ, אֲנִי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם.

2 Speak to all the community of the children of Israel, and you shall say to them: You shall be holy; for I the Eternal your God am holy.

teaches us that only by coming together as a community can we achieve holiness.  Holiness is not something to be sought in isolation from one another. 

Like Jews of every generation, we face the challenge of applying the words of our ancient tradition to the circumstances of the present day.   The Torah’s formulation “kawl adat bnai yisra’el”/ “all the community of the Children of Israel” originated at a time when our communal life was generally autonomous and separate from those of other communities though --- to be sure – we are also commanded in Leviticus 19: 33-34:

לג וְכִי-יָגוּר אִתְּךָ גֵּר, בְּאַרְצְכֶם--לֹא תוֹנוּ, אֹתוֹ.	33 And if a stranger dwells with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong.
לד כְּאֶזְרָח מִכֶּם יִהְיֶה לָכֶם הַגֵּר הַגָּר אִתְּכֶם, וְאָהַבְתָּ לוֹ כָּמוֹךָ--כִּי-גֵרִים הֱיִיתֶם, בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם: אֲנִי, יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם.	34 The stranger that dwells with you shall be to you as the native-born among you, and you shall love him as yourself; for your were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Eternal your God.

Today we need to come to our own conclusions regarding how the communitarian values portrayed in Torah passages such as those in Parshat Kedoshim apply to our role as citizens of our state and nation. Scripture is clear about the importance of providing for the needs of the poor, and of caring for the earth. 

We are our brothers and our sisters keepers. 

We are placed on the earth to guard it and tend to it – ultimately recognizing that it belongs not to us but to God. 

But how does this translate into individual virtue?  And how does this translate into a societal agenda?

Especially in an election year, we are all aware that this is the stuff of spirited debate – and it’s important that that debate be conducted with civility and mutual respect.

© Rabbi David Steinberg 5772/2012

New Haggadah and Seder music online

At our Temple Israel 2nd night seder we'll again be using the Reform movement's haggadah The Open Door edited by Rabbi Sue Levi Elwell.  New haggadot are published each year and I'd like also to put in a plug for a wonderful new haggadah that you might want to use at your home sedarim, or simply add to your Jewish library. Wellsprings of Freedom: The Renew Our Days Haggadah is the most recent volume in the "Hadesh Yameinu: Renew Our Days" series of prayerbooks edited by Rabbi Ron Aigen, spiritual leader of Dorshei Emet Reconstructionist Synagogue in Montreal.  You can order that book through the website www.wellspringshaggadah.com.  And that website also has a "music" section in which you can find recordings of many beloved seder melodies.   I really love Rabbi Aigen's sensitive mixing of contemporary inclusiveness and classical texts, as well as the aesthetical appeal of the overall layout of this new Haggadah.

Whichever Haggadah you use, may you have a joyous and sweet Passover holiday.  

MORE POWER TO YOU!

Dvar Torah delivered on Friday evening 3/9/12

Thoughts on Ki Tissa (Exodus 30:11 – 34:35)

Most of you are probably familiar with the custom of kissing a Jewish prayer book or sacred text upon picking it up if it has accidentally fallen to the ground.   Actually, there are a number of similar pious customs associated with all Jewish texts that include God’s name in Hebrew within them:

1) Not putting it directly on the ground

2) Not piling it underneath other books of lesser sanctity  (There is a pecking order here: Tanakh is above Siddur)

3) Kissing the book upon closing it when you finish consulting it.

Yet, I can recall that when I was a kid going to Orthodox Hebrew school in Brooklyn there were a few times when I purposely smashed a chumash on the ground and didn’t kiss it upon picking it up.  I did it to prove to myself that lighting wasn’t going to strike as a result.   And, of course, it didn’t.

Well, that’s youthful immaturity for you.  Nowadays, I understand that such pious customs are not magical talismans but rather mnemonic devices.  Observing customs like kissing a dropped chumash when we pick it up serves to remind us of the profundity and importance of the ideas that the book contains. 

I would imagine that many of us “act out” from time to time in similar ways --- challenging conventional received wisdom until we can sort out for ourselves what really makes sense.  The bottom line being that we should use the rituals to access the ideals, rather than worshipping the ritual objects themselves.

Perhaps that’s what is going on when Moses hurls the tablets of the law to the ground in this week’s Torah portion, Ki Tisa.  He has been up on the mountain for forty days and nights receiving God’s teachings.  He now descends from the mountain carrying two tablets carved by God, and inscribed with God’s writing.  But when Moses encounters the spectacle of the people worshipping an idol, a calf made of gold, he hurls the tablets to the ground, smashing them into pieces.

The late 19^th to early 20^th century commentator Rabbi Meir Simcha Hakohen writes in his commentary Meshekh Chochma that Moses smashed the tablets because “[h]e feared that [the Israelites] would deify them as they had done the calf.”  (Nechama Leibowitz: New Studies in Shemot/Exodus, part II, Aryeh Newman, translator, p. 613)

Or, to put it in other words, Moses feared that the tablets might themselves become objects of idolatry. 

Indeed, the sages of the Talmud assert that God approved of Moses’s actions, exclaiming  “Yasher Koach (More power to you), for having broken them!” (Shabbat 87a)

Why was God so pleased with Moses’ action of smashing the tablets?  It wasn’t just that Moses had found a way of teaching the people not to resort to idolatry.  In the midrash collection  Avot de Rabi Natan (c. 700-900 C.E.), Moses’s act of breaking the first set of tablets is portrayed as an act of solidarity with the people in that, in essence, he was ripping up the contract before the people could be held responsible for breaching it. 

After the traumatic episodes of the Golden Calf, the breaking of the tablets, and the civil war and plague that follow, Moses seeks reassurance from God, and God responds in the famous passage about the shelosh esray midot – the 13 divine qualities.  This famous passage, beginning with the words “Adonai, Adonai, El Rachum v’Chanun”/ “The Eternal, The Eteranal, a gracious and compassionate God”  (Ex. 34: 6-7), which we read in Parshat Ki Tisa, is also included in the special prayers and readings for the Days of Awe and the major Festivals.

God also reassures Moses through the giving of the second set of tablets.  This time around, the words on the tablets are still God’s – the content is the same --- but one thing is different.  This time it is Moses, not God, who carves the tablets from the stone. This change reminds us that an effective covenant requires the mutual involvement and teamwork of both parties.  The best agreements, the best relationships, the best learning environments --- require interaction.

In modern life, that’s what democracy is – or at least ought to be – about.  It should be about empowering all people to be part of the process.  Beware of attempts, whether by proposed constitutional amendments or otherwise, to shut disadvantaged or unpopular groups out of the political process or out of the mainstream of society.

Yasher Koach to all who are willing to break down such barriers, as Moses broke those tablets.

Shabbat shalom.

(c) Rabbi David Steinberg, 2012/5772 

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