PROGRESSIVE ZIONISM PEP TALK

Sermon for Yom Kippur morning 5780

October 9, 2019

The program booklet you have in front of you includes a brief overview of the Yom Kippur liturgy. And I wrote a similar overview in the program booklet for Rosh Hashanah that we distributed last week. I hope you have found these useful. In previous years I had gotten feedback that people wanted me to provide this sort of information from the bima. Frankly, I had often found that when I did do that it disrupted the flow of the service. So, this year, instead of talking a lot from the bima about the structure of the services, I thought I would rather put it all down in writing for you to peruse at your leisure.

In any event, when I decided to write those liturgical overviews for the Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur program flyers it seemed very clear to me that the first thing I should write about was the Shema, and, in particular, the first line of the Shema.

So much is wrapped up into that one Biblical verse, Deuteronomy Chapter 6, verse 4:

SHEMA YISRAEL ADONAI ELOHEINU ADONAI ECHAD

You’ve got your dynamic between the two names for the Deity -- ADONAI (which the sages say represents divine compassion and mercy) and ELOHIM (which the sages say represents divine judgment and justice). And that dichotomy prompts all of us to reflect on how those values should be balanced in our own lives.

(HINT: When in doubt, opt for compassion….)

And you’ve got your dynamic between universalism and particularism:

On the one hand, the monotheism proclaimed in the Shema is the epitome of universality: There is only One God : One God who has created all of existence including our one home planet and our one human species.

We --- the global “we” --- are all in this together.

Or as Rabbi Maurice Eisendrath, who for some three decades was the President of the Union of American Hebrew Congregations (as the Union for Reform Judaism used to be known), expressed it (and please excuse the dated language which is not as explicitly inclusive as we would express it today):

“Judaism gave mankind its first civil rights program. It was expressed in the Sh’ma, the watchword of the Jewish faith: “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One.” As God is one, mankind is one, for each is created equally in the image of God.” (See https://rac.org/shma-vahavta)

But on the other hand, there is also the particularist aspect of the Shema.

For that first line of the Shema is not addressed to all humanity but rather, to one particular subset of humanity, i.e. our particular subset of humanity. As it says:

Shema YISRAEL – Listen Israel, Listen Jewish people – Moses is saying -- I’m talking to YOU --- YISRAEL -- in particular!

All humanity are brothers and sisters, all humanity shares in the responsibility to take care of this one precious world in which we live.

But you, Israel – or –when we recite the Shema ourselves let’s make that – WE Israel – we the Jewish people – have a bond with one another, have a common history, have a common destiny, have --- God willing – a common purpose.

Why are we Jews dispersed among all the other nations of the world?

From a purely non-theological perspective, we can blame the persecutions of one ancient empire after another and one modern nation-state after another. And we can also factor in the various economic push and pull factors that have informed mass migrations of millions from ancient times to the present day.

During the rabbinic and medieval periods, the dominant philosophical view among our people was to put the blame on ourselves for being tossed and buffeted about the world.

A classic line in the traditional liturgy declares --- umipnei chata’einu galinu mey’artzenu --- “because of our sins we were exiled from our land.”

That theological claim has been expunged from Reform and Reconstructionist machzorim and siddurim. As theologically liberal Jews we generally do not buy into that “blame the victim” mentality when it comes to our people’s history of exile and dispersion.

A more optimistic view regarding the nature of the diaspora takes as its starting point Biblical verses like those found in the second half of the book of Isaiah.

Addressing the Judean exiles in Babylonia after the Destruction of the First Temple in the sixth century BCE, Isaiah 42:6 proclaims:

אֲנִ֧י יְ-ה-וָ֛-ה קְרָאתִ֥יךָֽ בְצֶ֖דֶק וְאַחְזֵ֣ק בְּיָדֶ֑ךָ וְאֶצָּרְךָ֗ וְאֶתֶּנְךָ֛ לִבְרִ֥ית עָ֖ם לְא֥וֹר גּוֹיִֽם׃

I the Eternal have called you in righteousness. And I have grasped you by the hand. I created you, and appointed you a covenant people, a light of nations—

And Isaiah 49:6 proclaims in similar fashion:

וּנְתַתִּ֙יךָ֙ לְא֣וֹר גּוֹיִ֔ם לִֽהְי֥וֹת יְשׁוּעָתִ֖י עַד־קְצֵ֥ה הָאָֽרֶץ

I will make you a light of nations so that My salvation may reach the ends of the earth.

The early leaders of Reform Judaism drew richly on this vein of tradition in seeing the dispersion of Jews around the world as a blessing rather than a curse – for they saw the Jewish mission as that of being exemplars to the world of ethical living.

A light unto the nations if you will.

And so, in the 1885 Pittsburgh Platform the rabbis of the Reform movement resolved:

“We recognize, in the modern era of universal culture of heart and intellect, the approaching of the realization of Israel's great Messianic hope for the establishment of the kingdom of truth, justice, and peace among all men. We consider ourselves no longer a nation, but a religious community, and therefore expect neither a return to Palestine, nor a sacrificial worship under the sons of Aaron, nor the restoration of any of the laws concerning the Jewish state.”[1]

The upheavals of the 20th century sufficed to convince Reform Judaism to modify this stance. In the Principles of Reform Judaism platform adopted in that same city of Pittsburgh a century later in 1999, the Central Conference of American Rabbis movement did still affirm the global mission of Judaism. The 1999 Pittsburgh Platform declares:

We are Israel, a people aspiring to holiness, singled out through our ancient covenant and our unique history among the nations to be witnesses to God’s presence. […]

In other words, the universalistic notion of Israel being “a light unto the nations,” a mission that our very dispersion could help us to fulfill.

But this time around, the 1999 Pittsburgh document now also embraced the idea of the importance of the nationalist aspect of Jewish identity:

As it stated:

“We are committed to (Medinat Yisrael), the State of Israel, and rejoice in its accomplishments. We affirm the unique qualities of living in (Eretz Yisrael), the land of Israel, and encourage (aliyah), immigration to Israel.

We are committed to a vision of the State of Israel that promotes full civil, human and religious rights for all its inhabitants and that strives for a lasting peace between Israel and its neighbors.

We are committed to promoting and strengthening Progressive Judaism in Israel, which will enrich the spiritual life of the Jewish state and its people.

We affirm that both Israeli and Diaspora Jewry should remain vibrant and interdependent communities. As we urge Jews who reside outside Israel to learn Hebrew as a living language and to make periodic visits to Israel in order to study and to deepen their relationship to the Land and its people, so do we affirm that Israeli Jews have much to learn from the religious life of Diaspora Jewish communities.”[2]

What a difference a century makes!

Meanwhile, our liturgy --- in all its versions – Orthodox, Conservative, Reconstructionist and Reform – still includes a poetic vision about the centrality of the Land of Israel. I started this sermon by talking about the importance of the Shema. But in any siddur or machzor the paragraph immediately prior to the Shacharit recitation of the Shema includes this ancient hope:

וַהֲבִיאֵנוּ לְשָׁלום מֵאַרְבַּע כַּנְפות הָאָרֶץ. וְתולִיכֵנוּ קומְמִיּוּת לְאַרְצֵנוּ

“Bring us in peace from the four corners of the earth and lead us with upright pride to our land.”

--------------------------

In recent years the interdependent relationship between the diaspora Jewish community and the State of Israel has come under increasing attack and challenge. There are some Jews today, even including some rabbis, who no longer identify themselves as Zionists. Who no longer see the value and necessity of the existence of a Jewish State in our people’s ancestral, indigenous homeland.

And so, I am glad that, at present, both the Reform and Reconstructionist movements still embrace the ideals of a progressive Zionism -- notwithstanding some outlying voices of dissent on the margins.

ARZA, the Association of Reform Zionists of America, defines its mission statement like this:

“ARZA strengthens and enriches the Jewish identity of Reform Jews in the United States by ensuring that a connection with the Land, People, and State of Israel are fundamental parts of that identity.”

ARZA is the representative voice for American Reform Jews in the elections to the World Zionist Congress, which take place every five years. And the Reconstructionist Movement, which endorsed and partnered with the ARZA slate for the 2015 elections to the World Zionist Congress, is doing so again for next year’s World Zionist Congress election.

More information about how we can exercise our right to vote in the 2020 World Zionist Congress election will be forthcoming soon. But if you want to get a sneak peek into all this just visit www.arza.org.

Meanwhile, in June of this year, the Reconstructionist movement became one of the founding organizational members of the “Progressive Israel Network” --- along with such other Progressive Zionist organizations as Americans for Peace Now, J Street, the Jewish Labor Committee, the New Israel Fund and T’ruah: The Rabbinic Call for Human Rights.

The constituent organizations of the “Progressive Israel Network” have adopted the following list of principles:

Grounded in our Jewish and democratic values, the Progressive Israel Network calls to action all those who are committed to Israel’s future as the national homeland of the Jewish people and as a democracy that lives in peace and security with its neighbors.
We are inspired by Israel‘s Declaration of Independence – establishing a state “based on freedom, justice, and peace,” that ensures “complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants, irrespective of religion, race, or sex.”
We are alarmed by the threats to that vision from the increasingly extreme actions, policies, and ideology of the Israeli far-right with cover provided by its supporters in the Diaspora.
Our commitment is to peace for Israel and its neighbors – through a two-state solution to the long and destructive conflict with the Palestinians and an end to the occupation and the expansion of settlements.
Our commitment is to Israel’s security – understanding the many and real security threats Israel faces and that Israel does not bear sole responsibility for its conflict with the Palestinians or other regional powers.
Our commitment is to democracy and the rule of law – believing that all citizens of Israel must be treated equally, and their civil and human rights protected.
Our commitment is to religious pluralism – and the belief that all forms of Jewish practice deserve equal protection and recognition in the state of the Jewish people.
Our values and our commitments make us proudly progressive and proudly pro-Israel and speak for the majority of Jews around the world.
We call on Jews who share our values to join us as we work to shape opinion, policy and discourse.
Together, let’s ensure that the Israel we leave to future generations best reflects the values and traditions we have inherited from those who’ve come before.[3]

I’ll be attending the J Street national conference in Washington, DC the end of this month where I’m really looking forward to learning more about how we can act to further these principles. And I’m looking forward to helping to bring these messages to our representatives and senators during the lobbying day on Capitol Hill which will also be part of the scheduled activities of the J Street conference.

And I’m really excited that our program committee is bringing here to Temple Israel on Sunday, November 3rd, the Israeli writer and activist Hen Mazzig, who will be speaking on the theme: “On Being a Liberal, Gay, Person of Color, a Progressive and a Zionist."

[NOTE: At this point, I gave a couple of shout-outs by name to specific members of the congregation who will be visiting Israel in the coming weeks and months. — DS]

And I really encourage any and all of you to experience Israel in person if you are at all able to do so. It will strengthen your Jewish identity and help you to understand how our communities are intertwined.

Here comes the caveat now:

Just as American political life right now is stymied by partisan gridlock, so is Israeli political life.

And in both of our countries, the forces of extremism threaten fundamental national values.

But as the Union for Reform Judaism’s immediate Past President, Rabbi Eric Yoffie wrote last year in Haaretz, Reform Jews “must be the voice of the sensible center.”[4]

(and I would add, that goes for Reconstructionist Jews as well, as well as any of us who support a Progressive Zionist outlook)

Whatever you may think of the strength of the Trump administration’s support for Israel or the strength of the Obama administration’s support for Israel before it, and whoever ends up occupying the White House come January 2021 --- it remains critical for the American Jewish community to remain steadfast in our support for the security of the State of Israel – and for the American Jewish community to remain steadfast in our commitment to the creation of an independent Palestinian state existing peacefully alongside Israel.

Our brothers and sisters in Israel need our support and advocacy – and our involvement and our critique.

American foreign policy will always be transactional to a certain extent.

Ask the Kurds.

Ask the Ukrainians.

And so, as we gather in synagogue today and recall the ancient rites of Jerusalem of old let us remember to keep in mind the Jerusalem of today.

As the psalmist reminds us:

אִֽם־אֶשְׁכָּחֵ֥ךְ יְֽרוּשָׁלִָ֗ם תִּשְׁכַּ֥ח יְמִינִֽי׃

If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither; let my tongue stick to my palate if I cease to think of you, if I do not keep Jerusalem in mind even at my happiest hour.[5]

May we, and all Israel, and all humanity, be blessed with peace and justice and reconciliation bimheyrah veyameinu/ speedily in our days.

And may we do our part in making it so.

Gmar chatimah tovah ve tzom-kal / A good final sealing and any easy fast.

Amen.

Tishri 5780/ October 2019

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pittsburgh_Platform

[2] https://www.ccarnet.org/rabbinic-voice/platforms/article-statement-principles-reform-judaism/

[3] https://www.progressiveisrael.org/progressive-israel-network-launched/

[4] https://www.haaretz.com/opinion/.premium-what-on-earth-can-rabbis-say-about-israel-this-rosh-hashana-1.6433074

[5] Psalms 137:5-6

Posted on October 17, 2019 by David Steinberg.

HERE TODAY...

Sermon for Kol Nidre Night 5780

October 8, 2019

A few days ago, I was proofreading the “Roll of Remembrance” that we will be distributing at the Yizkor service tomorrow afternoon. Of course, since my parents are memorialized by plaques here at Temple, I wanted to check to make sure that they were listed in the booklet. Yup. Their names were right there.

Not that I needed reminding.

I think of them every day – as I’m sure is the case for any of you who have lost next of kin. They may have yahrtzeits once a year, and we might remember them on Yom Kippur at Yizkor, but still, they remain in our hearts each and every day.

But then, as I looked just below my parents’ names on page 13 of the Roll of Remembrance, I was momentarily, instinctively startled. For the next name on the list is “David Steinberg.”

Now I assure you I’m alive and well at this juncture. That “David Steinberg,” for whom there is also a plaque here at Temple, was not related to me. He was the father of Lillian Alpert. Lillian was a former member of our congregation from before my time who died in Florida a couple of years ago at the age of 101 and is buried up here in Duluth at Tiffereth Israel Cemetery. Zichrona livracha/May her memory be for a blessing.

Still, seeing my own name in the Yizkor booklet, and also seeing it pop on our yahrtzeit list every year when the anniversary of Lillian Alpert’s father’s death comes up, reminds me of my own mortality.

In the Torah’s telling, after God had proclaimed the Ten Commandments, when Moses went up the mountain to get the first set of tablets and to learn from God all the rest of the laws of the Torah, and when he remained out of sight and incommunicado for forty days ---- the Israelites thought he was dead. In panic, they rebelled and pressured Aaron into fashioning a golden calf for them to worship instead of worshipping this unseen God who had been announced by their now equally unseen prophet.

Rowdy chaos ensued, and not in a good way.

After forty days, when Moses does come down the mountain, he smashes the first set of tablets in anger and then spends another forty days in a general funk, praying to God for mercy for his people. Then God invites him to come back up the mountain for a third forty-day period, teaching him the Torah anew and inscribing the Ten Commandments once more on a second set of Tablets, this time tablets hewn by Moses himself.

Jewish tradition teaches that the date on which Moses came back down from Mt. Sinai with the second set of tablets, that this date was the 10th of Tishri, Yom Kippur.

As we learn in Parashat Ki Tisa in the Book of Exodus, when Moses returned,

קָרַן עוֹר פָּנָיו / “karan or panav” / “the skin of his face was beaming” from having been in such close communion with God. That unusual Hebrew verb “karan” is related to the word “keren” meaning “horn.” Rashi comments on this verse that this implies: שהאור מבהיק ובולט כמין קרן / “sheha’or mavhik uvolet kemin keren” (“that the light shines out and projects like a sort of horn”). This linguistic similarity between the noun “keren” (“horn”) and the verb “karan” (“beamed”) , which Rashi makes note of, is the root of some old anti-Semitic misunderstandings that claimed that Jews had horns.

But In a more sympathetic, contemporary context we might describe Moses here as having a sort of “aura.”

However, a question remains for us: Moses had spoken with God many times before without getting these beams, or horns or rays of light. So what was different about this latest encounter with God compared to his previous encounters with God?

What is different is that it is on this occasion that Moses learns of the possibility of teshuvah/repentance/turning. The very fact that Moses could come back with a replacement set of tablets was a sign that God had decided to give the people a second chance.

And so we find, that when Moses had asked God to show him God’s ways, God’s response was all about teshuva ( Indeed, although the most common translation of “teshuvah” is “repentance,” the word “teshuvah” can also, literally, be translated as “response”).

We are well familiar with that response, the Shelosh Esrey Midot/ “The Thirteen Divine Attributes.” These words from Exodus 34, in slightly abbreviated form, are a key part of our Yom Kippur liturgy:

יְ-.ה-וָ-ה יְ-ה-וָ-ה, אֵל רַחוּם וְחַנּוּן--אֶרֶךְ אַפַּיִם, וְרַב-חֶסֶד וֶאֱמֶת.

Adonai, Adonai, God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth

נֹצֵר חֶסֶד לָאֲלָפִים, נֹשֵׂא עָו‍ֹן וָפֶשַׁע וְחַטָּאָה; וְנַקֵּה

keeping mercy unto the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin; and acquitting the penitent.

It is in this new, deeper experience of God, this new perception of God’s aspect of granting pardon and forgiveness, that Moses acquires that aura, or those “horns” of light if you will.

The gift of the second set of tablets teaches Moses, and teaches us, that it is never too late to start over, to refocus, to return to our better selves.

And just as God gives us the possibility of being forgiven, so also ought we to be forgiving to others who may have messed up in one way or another in their relationships with us.

For, ultimately, healthy relationship is not about being perfect and never making a mistake. Rather it’s about having faith and trust in the long run. Indeed, in the Hebrew language, the verb “l’ha’amin” (להאמין) from the root letters aleph-mem-nun/א.מ.נ. ) (and the related noun “emunah” אמוניה include the English concepts of faith, belief and trust – all in the same word.

So, to use another word derived from the same root letters (aleph-mem-nun): Whenever we say Ameyn (or “Amen” in English) --- we are not just saying that we believe the message of a particular prayer to be factually true. More importantly -- we are saying that we have faith and trust in the ongoing relationship between ourselves and God.

Faith and trust in God helps us to overcome our fear of mortality.

Faith and trust in others helps us to build relationships and to repair them when they have been disrupted.

The people thought Moses had died. He had not. He would live another forty years, until the proverbial ripe old age of one hundred and twenty. But 120 years is still not forever.

And, as for us, however long or short any of our own individual lifetimes might be, we know that they too are limited.

I guess this knowledge is ultimately a good thing. That’s why the psalmist asks of God ----

לִמְנ֣וֹת יָ֭מֵינוּ כֵּ֣ן הוֹדַ֑ע וְ֝נָבִ֗א לְבַ֣ב חָכְמָֽה׃

Teach us, therefore, so to number our days that we may attain a heart of wisdom.[1]

In other words, Judaism is teaching us that we should make every day count. Every day is a gift. We should strive to appreciate this gift of life, and to appreciate the gift of the presence of others in our lives.

The sages taught that we should say 100 blessings every day. That seems like a pretty daunting challenge!

Well, I know folks who try to do 100 pushups each day, or walk 10,000 steps each day. Such physical regimes take dedication and focus.

So does the spiritual regime of being conscious of our blessings.

Many of us don’t manage to fulfill such spiritual or physical goals on a consistent basis.

Heck, many of us don’t even get around to eating five servings of vegetables each day.

But we get the basic idea. Life is short. Don’t waste it. Don’t walk through it on auto-pilot.

That message comes up loud and clear during these Yamim Nora’im/ Days of Awe. In the “Unetaneh Tokef” on both Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur we wonder aloud who will live and who will die between now and this time next year.

And, indeed, the rituals of Yom Kippur have been likened to those surrounding death and mourning. The kittel that I am wearing and that a few others of you are wearing, resembles the traditional tachrichim or shrouds in which Jewish dead are traditionally enwrapped before burial. They have no pockets. We are not taking our material possessions with us when we go.

Even if any of us live to Moshe’s lifespan of 120 years, life is still too short to stand on ceremony.

Life is too short not to be forgiving of others.

Life is too short not to be forgiving of ourselves.

I love that famous concluding line from the poem “The Summer Day” by the American poet Mary Oliver who died earlier this year.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

We should be asking ourselves that question every day.

But, to the extent that we may forget or neglect to do so, Yom Kippur reminds us.

This day of introspection, Yom Kippur, brings with it an acknowledgement of our mortality.

You all know the old saying, “Here today, gone tomorrow.”

But Yom Kippur also turns that saying on its head.

For with the tekiyah gedolah shofar blast that concludes Yom Kippur we are, as it were, reborn.

With that imminent rebirth, may we all be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life for health and happiness in this new year of our wild and precious life.

Gmar Chatimah Tovah.

[1] Psalms 90:12

Posted on October 17, 2019 by David Steinberg.

STRANGERS AT THE GATES REDUX

(Sermon for First Morning of Rosh Hashanah 5780/ September 30, 2019)

This is my tenth Rosh Hashanah in Duluth, enough time to start to feel a little settled in. Some of you, of course, have lived your whole lives here. I bet you really feel at home – especially those of you whose families have been here for generations. And for those of you who are newer to our congregation, or who are visiting us from out-of-town --- Beruchim Haba’im -- welcome – and we hope you will feel at home here too.

However, no matter how heimish an atmosphere we might create here at Temple Israel, we also remember that we are a people whose history is filled with experiences of exile, displacement and wandering.

Torah speaks of Abraham and Sarah’s journey in response to God’s call --- LEKH LEKHA --- “Go forth from your native land and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you.” (Genesis 12:1).

Somewhat more problematically, those veteran wanderers subsequently force out Hagar and Ishmael to wander in a harsh and forbidding wilderness in this morning’s Torah reading. Abraham and Sarah may be the ones whom we acknowledge as our spiritual forbears. But, nevertheless, we cannot help but identify with Hagar and Ishmael as well when we confront their plight each year on the first morning of Rosh Hashanah.

And in tomorrow morning’s haftarah, the prophet Jeremiah poignantly evokes the memory of our ancestral mother Rachel crying from beyond the grave as she witnesses the forced exile of the Jewish people a thousand years later:

כֹּ֣ה ׀ אָמַ֣ר יְהוָ֗ה ק֣וֹל בְּרָמָ֤ה נִשְׁמָע֙ נְהִי֙ בְּכִ֣י תַמְרוּרִ֔ים רָחֵ֖ל מְבַכָּ֣ה עַל־בָּנֶ֑יהָ מֵאֲנָ֛ה לְהִנָּחֵ֥ם עַל־בָּנֶ֖יהָ כִּ֥י אֵינֶֽנּוּ׃

Thus said the Eternal: A cry is heard in Ramah— Wailing, bitter weeping— Rachel weeping for her children. She refuses to be comforted for her children, who are gone. (Jer. 31:15)

But the Babylonian Exile wasn’t forever.

And the occupation of the Land of Israel by foreign empires wasn’t forever.

Israel now once more --- as was the case in the days of Kings Saul, David and Solomon --- is once again home to the world’s largest Jewish population.

In this Jewish year 5780, we are no longer a displaced people.

And here in the United States – home to the second largest Jewish community on the planet --- we are blessed to be in a country which, for all its faults, has afforded us those opportunities envisioned back in 1790 by President George Washington in his letter to the Jewish congregation of Newport, Rhode Island when he wrote:

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.

May the father of all mercies scatter light, and not darkness, upon our paths, and make us all in our several vocations useful here, and in His own due time and way everlastingly happy.[1]

In this secular year 2019, we are no longer a displaced people.

But the memory of exile, of wandering, of forced migration, remains in our guts.

All of us who are Jewish, whether by birth or by conversion, share this history and this heritage of wandering and homelessness.

And so it is not surprising that Jewish voices have been prominent recently among those concerned with the plight of the displaced millions of today: Those displaced millions who find themselves buffeted about by the traumas of war and famine and violence which lead them to follow the age-old path of “LEKH LEKHA” --- to go forth from their native lands and from their ancestral homes to a place they do not know.

But there is much to be concerned about with respect to current U.S. policies around these issues.

Most recently, the Trump administration just last week reduced the annual ceiling for refugee admissions to a record low never before seen under either Democratic or Republican administrations.

At the end of the Obama administration, the cap was at 110,000. The Trump administration cut it to 45,000 for the 2018 fiscal year, and then to 30,000 for the current fiscal year. The new figure just announced for the 2020 fiscal year is just 18,000.[2]

HIAS President and CEO Mark Hetfield issued the following statement last week in response:

“With the stroke of a pen, President Trump plans to once again abdicate American leadership, by playing to fear rather than showing strength. Refugee resettlement saves lives. The U.S. commitment to refugee resettlement has a global effect, setting an example for the world, in a moment when international leadership is sorely needed. Refugee resettlement assures that at least some of those forced to flee their homes have a safe and legal pathway to refuge in the United States. This administration has once again brought our country to a new low, by pledging to resettle fewer refugees than any other administration in history.”

“HIAS, the American Jewish community, and our local resettlement partners across the country have welcomed immigrants and refugees for well over a century, and we will continue to do so long after President Trump is out of office. We will help resettled refugees rebuild their lives, become contributing members of their communities, and walk along the pathway to citizenship. America is a courageous and generous country with a tradition of welcoming refugees. In spite of the administration's blows to HIAS and other faith-based partners welcoming refugees to the United States, we will survive and help refugees thrive.”

The HIAS press release quoting Hetfield’s statement concludes by noting:

“Historically, the annual refugee admissions ceiling has averaged 95,000 per year. This year, according to the U.N Refugee Agency (UNHCR), there are nearly 26 million refugees worldwide, the highest number ever recorded. According to UNHCR, more than 1.4 million refugees cannot remain safely where they are and are in need of resettlement.”[3]

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

The Trump administration’s main argument for its slashing of the refugee numbers is that they are doing this because we already have a huge backlog of asylum seekers on our southwestern border. Refugee advocates counterargue that the asylum situation at the southwestern border should not be an excuse for abandoning potential refugees from hot spots around the world.

As the New York Times reports, “they point out that the backlog in the immigration courts is largely the result of cases where the asylum seekers’ requests need to be evaluated, [whereas,] most refugees who arrive in the United States have already been screened and vetted before they arrive.[4]

What about our Southwestern border?

The situation there reached crisis proportions earlier this year, with children separated from parents, and with many asylum seekers treated as common criminals and kept in harsh conditions where some children died. The situation seems to have calmed down somewhat recently, in part because the Trump administration is now compelling asylum seekers to remain in Mexico, or El Salvador, Honduras or Guatemala while their claims are adjudicated. But this has the potential to leave them in danger of being caught up by the violence that they are seeking to escape in the first place.

At a deeper philosophical level, the distinction between migrants and asylum seekers remains problematic. Isn’t extreme poverty and the risk of starvation just as oppressive as being targeted for one’s beliefs or opinions?

Over the last couple of years, many Jewish folks have repurposed the summertime day of mourning, Tisha B’Av, which is when we mark the anniversary of the destruction of the First Temple in 586 B.C.E. and the Second Temple in 70 C.E., and a number of other tragic events, including the expulsion of Jews from Spain in 1492. Tisha B’Av gatherings on behalf of would-be asylum seekers took place all over the United States, including one that Danny Frank and I attended on August 10th along with approximately 150 other Jews and allies at the Sherburne County Jail in Elk River, Minnesota. A number of would be asylum seekers are imprisoned there after having been apprehended by agents from the Immigration and Customs Enforcement Division (“ICE”) of the U.S. Department of Homeland Security.

Here in Duluth, an interfaith local advocacy group has been active in this issue in recent months. The Twin Ports Interfaith Committee for Migrant Justice includes representatives from various local faith traditions. Andrea Gelb from our congregation has been particularly active in this group. (More information can be found on their Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/Interfaith-Committee-for-Migrant-Justice-112495940104721/ )

The group sponsored a walk and vigil in downtown Duluth back in June in which I and a few other folks from our congregation participated. Here is what I said at that gathering:

The Torah in Exodus 12:38 reports that when the children of Israel left Egypt to journey to the Promised Land “a mixed multitude went up with them.” It’s hard not to see a parallel between the mixed multitude who wanted to join up with the Israelites in the time of the Book of Exodus and the mixed multitude of migrants, refugees and asylum seekers who want to come to the United States in our own day and who seek a path towards citizenship. Once we get past the xenophobic tweets of those who would falsely brand them as rapists, terrorists and drug smugglers, we realize that most of those who yearn to come to our country are motivated by the same forces that brought so many of our own ancestors here: The search for a safer and better life. We in the Jewish community can identify with them because we too are immigrants or the descendants of immigrants.

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

I must admit that, when it comes to talking from the bima about current political issues, I always feel much more ambivalent and unsure of myself than when I just stick to teaching about our Jewish literary heritage of Torah, Talmud, and rabbinic commentary through the ages. I’m well aware that we as a community are not monolithic in our political leanings. And I’m well aware that all of you can read newspapers and listen to podcasts and stream the internet just as well as I can --- even if nowadays it can be challenging to come to a balanced analysis of the issues amidst all the propaganda and partisanship.

But the stakes are high.

“Unetaneh Tokef”, which we chanted earlier this morning, includes some dramatic warnings:

Who shall live and who shall die?

Who by fire and who by water?

Who shall have rest and who can never be still?

Who by famine and who by drought?

These questions are not just rhetorical for many who seek refuge within our borders.

You might recall that we talked about exactly these same questions on Rosh Hashanah morning one year ago. Here’s how I ended my Rosh Hashanah morning sermon last year. It bears repeating. So I’ll just conclude with those same words I spoke last Rosh Hashanah, simply adding a “plus one” to the mention of the new year:

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

As we gather today to mark the Jewish New Year, issues surrounding the plight of would-be migrants, refugees and asylum seekers continue to be fought over in a hyper-partisan way. However, surely there exist legislative and administrative solutions that can address both humanitarian concerns as well as concerns for border security and the rule of law.

Such issues have been with us from time immemorial. Today’s Torah reading from the Book of Genesis spoke of the plight of Hagar and Ishmael as they wandered through the wilderness of Beer-Sheva, but of course all four of the remaining books of the Torah are filled with accounts of our ancestor’s wanderings through the wilderness of Sinai in search of a better life. And, speaking of Genesis --- even its opening saga of Adam and Eve tells of their expulsion from Eden and the trials and tribulations that would follow.

As we move into this new year 5780, may we be granted the wisdom and the perseverance to advocate for our nation to live up to its highest ideals in offering refuge to those in distress, and the chance for a better life to those who would seek to join our society.

May we sort out the means for doing so in a spirit of mutual respect – leshem shamayim – for the sake of heaven.

And may all of us ---- friends, neighbors and the strangers at our gates, be inscribed in the Book of Life for a year of health, happiness, prosperity and peace.

Amen.

[1] https://www.tourosynagogue.org/history-learning/gw-letter

[2] https://kvoa.com/news/2019/09/20/pentagon-is-last-holdout-as-stephen-miller-tries-to-slash-number-of-refugees-allowed-in-u-s/

[3] https://www.hias.org/news/press-releases/hias-statement-proposed-fy20-refugee-admissions-18000

[4] https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/26/us/politics/trump-refugees.html

Posted on October 17, 2019 by David Steinberg.

SHELTER OF PEACE

Sermon for Erev Rosh Hashanah 5780

September 29, 2019

Happy New Year!

I’m so glad that everyone is here this evening to celebrate the Jewish New Year.

However, and I hesitate to tell you this, but if you search carefully through every single word of the Torah, you will not find a single mention of the 1st day of Tishri being Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.

But please don’t rush off! I can still assure you we didn’t all get the date mixed up!

Let me try to clarify this confusion:

It is true that the first mention in the Torah of what we now observe as Rosh Hashanah does not characterize it as a new year festival at all.

Rather, what the Torah says at Leviticus 23:23-24 is this:

וַיְדַבֵּ֥ר יְהוָ֖ה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֥ה לֵּאמֹֽר׃

“Adonai spoke to Moses, saying:

דַּבֵּ֛ר אֶל־בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל לֵאמֹ֑ר בַּחֹ֨דֶשׁ הַשְּׁבִיעִ֜י בְּאֶחָ֣ד לַחֹ֗דֶשׁ יִהְיֶ֤ה לָכֶם֙ שַׁבָּת֔וֹן זִכְר֥וֹן תְּרוּעָ֖ה

מִקְרָא־קֹֽדֶשׁ׃

“Speak to the Israelite people thus: In the seventh month, on the first day of the month, you shall observe complete rest, a sacred occasion commemorated with ‘TERU’AH’”

The word “teru’ah” is translated there in the Jewish Publication Society Tanakh as “loud blasts”.

And a similar reference in Numbers 29, which is our maftir reading for both mornings of Rosh Hashanah, describes this day as being

מִֽקְרָא־קֹ֙דֶש...י֥וֹם תְּרוּעָ֖ה

“a sacred occasion… a day of TERUAH”

which the Jewish Publication Society translates there as “a day when the horn is sounded.”

But no mention of these loud blasts --- or of this sounding of the horn --- as being connected with any sort of New Year festival.

Indeed, you may recall that the very first mitzvah in the Torah that is applicable to the Jewish people as a people is the mitzvah that God proclaims to Moses and Aaron just before that first Passover when we leave Egypt. And what is that mitzvah? As it says in Exodus 12:2 –

הַחֹ֧דֶשׁ הַזֶּ֛ה לָכֶ֖ם רֹ֣אשׁ חֳדָשִׁ֑ים רִאשׁ֥וֹן הוּא֙ לָכֶ֔ם לְחָדְשֵׁ֖י הַשָּׁנָֽה׃

This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months; it shall be the first of the months of the year for you.

And, of course they are talking there about Nisan – the month at the start of spring when we celebrate Passover. That’s the month that the Torah consistently identifies as the first month of the year.

Admittedly, elsewhere in the Torah, the beginning of every month, Rosh Chodesh, is designated as a semi-holiday. But, that still leaves us with the question: Why then is the “Rosh Chodesh” of this seventh month of the Hebrew calendar – the month later known by its Babylonian name “Tishri” – why is the beginning of this seventh month considered a full-scale festival?

Later commentary in the Talmud identified this first day of the seventh month as being the anniversary of the creation of the world. Actually, even that is an oversimplification since there is an argument in the Talmud that the world was created on the 25th of Elul and that this 1st day of Tishri is not the birthday of the world, but rather the birthday of humanity (i.e., the sixth day as described in the Creation story of Genesis chapter 1).

But, long story short, ultimately, it became the normative Jewish tradition to treat this seventh month of the Biblical calendar as the start of the year for purposes of counting the number of years since the creation of the world.

Of course, I am assuming that none of us in this room take any of that chronology literally. It is way more than 5780 years since our world was created, at least in the way we define “years.” But I am also assuming that I don’t have to convince you that the profound lessons which scripture teaches need not lead us to reject our modern understandings of science.

We praise God as the author of Creation in our standard prayers every day of the year. And on this day when we celebrate the anniversary of Creation itself --- however many billions of years ago that might have actually been --- how much more so are we inspired to pause to reflect on the awesomeness of it all.

The Talmud says that this is the day on which humanity is judged and on which our fates are determined for the year to come. And, the traditional teaching goes on, since none of us are wholly good or wholly evil, we have another ten days until Yom Kippur to tip the balance --- through our efforts to atone for our misdeeds and to make things right between ourselves and our fellow creatures and between ourselves and God.

But all that is later gloss on what is actually written in the Torah.

Going back to the Torah’s portrayal of this day as being “zichron teruah” (“commemorated with loud blasts”) or “Yom teruah” (“a day when the horn is sounded”) – descriptions that do not identify this day with the New Year --- why are we making a big deal out of this day?

Or to put it in other words, if Tishrei is the seventh month and not the first month, what’s with all the shofar blasts?

If we go back to the Torah, in its own terms, at the time of its own writing, the horn blasts of the first day of the seventh month --- and the purification rituals of Yom Kippur --- all of these are just preliminary steps leading up to the big day – the full moon of the seventh month --- The holiday known as Chag Hasukkot – The Festival of Booths. Indeed, later on in the Talmud, Sukkot is simply called “He-Chag” – “The Festival” par excellence.

Now, I know you’re all here tonight because it’s Rosh Hashanah, not because we’re anticipating Sukkot which starts two weeks from tonight.

But, even as we recite the traditional prayers of Rosh Hashanah tonight and tomorrow and the day after, and even as we recite the traditional penitential prayers of Yom Kippur ten days from now --- and even as we recite our prayers throughout every day of the year --- the image of the sukkah is never far from our consciences.

During the entire month of Elul and throughout the High Holidays, it is traditional to recite Psalm 27.

And in Psalm 27, verse 5 we have this poignant image:

כִּ֤י יִצְפְּנֵ֨נִי ׀ בְּסֻכֹּה֮ בְּי֪וֹם רָ֫עָ֥ה יַ֭סְתִּרֵנִי בְּסֵ֣תֶר אָהֳל֑וֹ בְּ֝צ֗וּר יְרוֹמְמֵֽנִי׃

“For God’s sukkah will shelter me in days of evil; God’s tent will conceal me, raising me high upon a rock.[1]”

And every evening of the year, in the Hashkivenu blessing, our prayer that we be safe from any and all dangers that may lurk in the night, we ask:

וּפְרוֹשׂ עָלֵינוּ סֻכַּת שְׁלוֹמֶךָ

(“ufros aleynu sukkat shelomekha”)

“Spread over us the sukkah of Your peace.”

What is a sukkah – it’s a flimsy shelter at best. Susceptible to wind and rain, open to the elements. A couple of weeks from now many of us will spend some time in the sukkah, even if just for the few moments of reciting a couple of blessings and sampling some wine or grape juice and challah. The ones among us more ambitious in their piety may eat some meals in a sukkah or even sleep in it.

Tradition invites us to think of it as our temporary home.

But thinking of this precarious structure as a home sensitizes us to the fact that many people are without sturdy homes.

One such poor individual here in Duluth tried to warm himself on a cold night just a few weeks ago by dwelling in the sukkah belonging to Adas Israel Congregation and starting a fire. It appears that this homeless man was also suffering from mental illness that clouded his judgment. Supposedly, when the fire got out of control he tried to put it out by spitting on it; then walked away --- in panic, in confusion, in despair – it’s hard to say. Admittedly, it’s hard to know definitively what may or may not have been going through his mind.

The incident has left all of us shaken. We live in a particular period in history when hate crimes have been on the rise, including hate crimes against religious and racial minorities --- we saw this happen in the past year to synagogues in Pittsburgh and Poway, to Mosques in Christchurch, and – not long before that – to an African-American church in Charleston.

When Adas Israel burnt down many of us first thought (dare I say “hoped”) that it was an electrical fire. Then, when we heard that a suspect had been arrested and charged with arson, we feared the worst. If it was a hate crime, then that would fit in with the scary picture that we may have in our heads if we spend too much time obsessing on social media and tabloid news.

Yes, there are real security issues for synagogues – and for society in general – to address in this age when there is too much hatred in the air and too many guns on the street. And I know that your Temple Israel Board of Trustees is focused on addressing those concerns.

But still, that is BY NO MEANS the whole story. The bigger story, the more important story --- is that love conquers hate and I’ll be damned if I ever would believe that there isn’t more love than hate in this room, in this city, in this state, in this country, and in this world.

As for the case at hand, our hearts go out to our friends and neighbors at Adas Israel Congregation.

And we pray that as we mark this holy day of Rosh Hashanah 5780, and as we live out each day of our lives, that we remember those who are homeless, that we remember those who are in need, and that we open our hearts to God and one another.

That is ultimately what Rosh Hashanah is all about. That is ultimately what Yom Kippur is all about. That is ultimately what Sukkot is all about.

That, my friends, is ultimately what life is all about.

Lshanah tovah tikatevu

May all of us be inscribed in the book of life and may it be a shanah tovah umetukah, a new year of goodness and sweetness, for all of us, for all Israel, and for all the world.

[1] Translation by Rabbi Ron Aigen

�

Posted on October 16, 2019 by David Steinberg.

LOYALTY OATH

(Dvar Torah given at Temple Israel on Friday evening 8/23/19)

Thoughts on Ekev (5779/2019)

(Deut. 7:12 – 11:25)

Our Torah portion this Shabbat, Parashat Ekev, includes some praise-filled poetry describing the Eretz Yisra’el/ the Land of Israel. As it says in Deuteronomy 8: 7-10:

כִּי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ, מְבִיאֲךָ אֶל-אֶרֶץ טוֹבָה:

7 For the Eternal your God is bringing you into a good land, a land with streams and springs and fountains issuing from plain and hill; 8 a land of wheat and barley, of vines, figs, and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey; 9 a land where you may eat food without stint, where you will lack nothing; a land whose rocks are iron and from whose hills you can mine copper. 10 When you have eaten your fill, give thanks to the Eternal your God for the good land which [God] has given you. (Deut. 8: 7-10)

And later on in Parashat Ekev, at Deuteronomy 11: 11-12, Torah teaches –

11 And the land you are about to cross into and possess, a land of hills and valleys, soaks up its water from the rains of heaven. 12 It is a land which the Eternal your God looks after; the eyes of the Eternal your God are always upon it, from year's beginning to year's end. 13 If, then, you obey the commandments that I enjoin upon you this day, loving the Eternal your God and serving [God] with all your heart and soul, 14 I will grant the rain for your land in season, the early rain and the late. You shall gather in your new grain and wine and oil — 15 I will also provide grass in the fields for your cattle — and thus you shall eat your fill.

For the Jewish people, our ties to that land extend back thousands of years, and Eretz Yisra’el has been a focus of our religious and cultural identity from generation to generation -- ledor vador --- in all the lands of our dispersion -- from Egypt to India; from Lithuania to Minnesota.

We don’t worship the land of Israel. We don’t turn it into an idol. Rather, we see it --- whether we are God-believing Jews or Atheist Jews or anything in between --- as the place in which the Jewish people made its home in antiquity; the place from which we were exiled first by Babylonians and later by Romans; and the place where we re-entered history as a sovereign nation with the rise of modern Zionism.

The political Zionism of Theodor Herzl is certainly, in part, a product of the culture of nineteenth century Europe – a Europe that gave birth to many nationalist movements. And the same can be said about modern Palestinian nationalism on the part of Arab residents of the region. Before modern Zionism, Jews believed that the return to the land would only come with the arrival of Messianic Days. Before modern Palestinian nationalism, Arabs in the historic Land of Israel saw themselves mainly as residents of their local towns, or as members of the worldwide religious Muslim world that was born in the Arabian peninsula.

As for Israel – aka -- Palestine, both peoples have compelling narratives connecting us to the same land, which is why it ought to be a no-brainer that compromise is needed. The content of such compromise is well understand by both the Israeli leadership and the Palestinian Authority leadership: Two states – Israel and Palestine – living side by side in peace, with a shared capital in Jerusalem, and with borders based on the 1949 armistice lines as adjusted by mutually agreed upon land swaps that would put some Israeli settlements near the green line into Israel and some Israeli land into Palestine.

Both Israel’s political leaders and the Palestinian Authority’s leadership have missed many opportunities over the years to close this deal.

And into this morass, lumbers in --- on one side -- BDS supporters like Representatives Ilhan Omar and Rashida Tlaib --- and – crashing in on the other side -- that bull in a China shop – President Donald Trump.

Representatives Omar and Tlaib support the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement. BDS undermines the possibility of achieving a two-State solution for the Israelis and Palestinians by failing to acknowledge that Jews are an indigenous people to the Land of Israel, and by failing to acknowledge that Zionism is a movement not of European colonialism but rather of national liberation. But at the same time, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government is equally hard at work undermining the possibility of achieving a two-state solution through its continued expansion of Jewish settlements in the West Bank.

Omar and Tlaib were planning to visit the region this month, ostensibly on a fact-finding mission in their roles as members of the U.S. House of Representatives. Their agenda pointedly referred to their destination as simply “Palestine” with no mention of “Israel.” Chances are, their visit would have created media soundbites critical of the Israeli occupation of the West Bank.

The Israeli Knesset two years ago had passed a controversial law barring entry to Israel of supporters of BDS, but Israel’s Ambassador to the United States had assured the U.S. government that Omar and Tlaib would be admitted nonetheless out of respect for the role of the United States Congress.

But then Trump intervened via presidential Tweet all but daring Israel to bar Omar and Tlaib or otherwise appear “weak.”

So, the Israelis changed course and barred Omar and Tlaib. Then Tlaib petitioned Israel to be allowed to make a personal visit to her grandmother in the West Bank, promising not to turn the visit into a political stunt. Israel said yes. But then Tlaib, no doubt succumbing to pressure from her erstwhile allies, herself changed course and said she wouldn’t go visit her grandmother after all if she had to refrain during her family visit from calling for boycotts of Israel.

That’s where things stood on Tuesday. A total SNAFU (If you don’t know what that acronym stands for, ask your neighbor.)

--------------------------------------------

And then, not content to leave bad enough alone, President Trump on Tuesday decided he wanted to say more about the Omar-Tlaib affair. He declared as follows:

“I think any Jewish people that vote for a Democrat, I think it shows either a total lack of knowledge or great disloyalty.”[1]

This triggered widespread outrage and a certain degree of confusion –As Avi Mayer, the Assistant Executive Director and Managing Director of Global Communications at the American Jewish Committee (AJC), quipped later that day on Twitter:

“Much as I enjoy the Talmudic debates around that age-old question—"to whom is the President of the United States accusing Jews of being disloyal?"—let us take a moment to reflect on how insane it is that we have to discuss this at all.”[2]

The following day Trump clarified what he had meant. In a statement from the White house he said:

“If you want to vote Democrat, you are being very disloyal to Jewish people and very disloyal to Israel,”[3]

Many people across the political spectrum have been condemning Trump’s remarks as anti-Semitic because Trump appears to be saying that American Jews are more loyal to the State of Israel than to the United States – or at least more loyal to the State of Israel than to Donald J. Trump.

Ironically, if you listen closely, what Trump really was saying was that American Jews – at least the vast majority of American Jews who typically vote Democrat – are not strong enough in their dual loyalties.

Supporters of Trump – including many Israeli Jews and some American Jews – shake their heads and wonder --- what’s the problem here? Don’t those unknowledgeable disloyal American Jewish Democrats understand that Trump is the best friend Israel has ever had in terms of his support of the Netanyahu government, his move of the American embassy to Jerusalem and his recognition of Israel’s annexation of the Golan Heights?

I’ll say this: As an American Jew – the only undivided loyalty I have is to God as I understand God – or, in more humanistic terms --- the only undivided loyalty I have is to the dictates of my own conscience. That, at any rate is how I understand teachings like those we find in this week’s parasha where it says ---

אֶת־יְהוָ֧ה אֱלֹהֶ֛יךָ תִּירָ֖א אֹת֣וֹ תַעֲבֹ֑ד וּב֣וֹ תִדְבָּ֔ק וּבִשְׁמ֖וֹ תִּשָּׁבֵֽעַ׃

You shall revere the Eternal your God: it is only [God] that you shall worship, to God shall you hold fast, and by God’s name shall you swear. (Deut. 10:20)

As for worldly, temporal loyalties --- I am loyal to the United States of America – or as we say in the words of the pledge of allegiance to our flag – “to the republic for which it stands”.

Indeed, as we learn in the Talmud --- “Dina de malchuta dina” – “the law of the state is the law”.

At the same time I am loyal to the principal of “Ahavat Yisrael” – Love of our fellow Jews – and this certainly includes the majority of the world’s Jewish population who live today in the State of Israel. Though I’m not a citizen of the State of Israel I am deeply concerned for its welfare and security. And I am certain that both will be strengthened by achieving a just solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict through the establishment of Two States for Two Peoples.

So, I’m not so concerned -- and I don’t think any of us need to be so concerned -- about accusations of dual loyalty – or as in this week’s bizarre turn of events -- of accusations of not being dual enough in our loyalty.

No, what really is upsetting, and counter-productive and just overall un=American -- is President Trump’s continual efforts to promote divisiveness and intolerance in our country within the American Jewish community and among Americans generally.

Danny Maseng, who is the composer of many wonderful Jewish liturgical settings, including an arrangement of Mah Tovu that our Temple choir sings on the High Holidays, wrote a fiery public post the other day on Facebook. Here’s what he had to say in response to the President’s remarks this week about American Jews who vote for Democrats:

And I apologize in advance – it is indeed more polemical than would typically be my own style of expression – and yet, the times call for such words.

So here’s Danny Maseng’s facebook post. It’s entitled “As a Jew”:

As a Jew

Since you called me out as a Jew, Mr. President, since you thought to call me disloyal or lacking knowledge by not voting for you, I’d like to respond to you personally, even though I have no illusions you will read this.
As a Jew, Mr. President, I am commanded to love the stranger who dwells among us no less than thirty-six times in the Bible you claim to treasure. I am commanded to have one law for the stranger and the citizen. No exceptions.
As a Jew, Mr. President, I am commanded to pay my employees on time, including undocumented workers at casinos, construction sites, or golf courses.
As a Jew, I am commanded to repay bank loans and investors.
As a Jew, I am commanded to never bear false witness.
As a Jew, Mr. President, I am commanded to guard my tongue and speak no evil.
As a Jew, Mr. President, I am commanded to never embarrass my fellow human being in public, lest I be accused of spilling their blood – including Ted Cruz or the late Senator and war hero, John McCain.
As a Jew, Mr. President, I take great offense in my president attacking Denmark, a country that gallantly saved its Jews from the Nazis, while most of Europe fell asleep.
As a Jew, Mr. President, I take umbrage in my Grandfather, the sainted Dr. Rabbi Harry S. Davidowitz, who inhaled poison gas in the trenches of WWI as a US Army chaplain, being called disloyal because he voted Democrat.
As a Jew, born and raised in Israel, I take offense at you calling me disloyal to America AND to Israel because I oppose your inept, ghoulish, uncouth, deceitful, inhumane farce of leadership. How many tours of duty have you performed for Israel during wartime? Or, for that sake, the USA?
As a Jew, Mr. President, I reserve the right to oppose Ilhan Omar and Rashida Tlaib (neither of whom called upon the help of a former KGB operative to help them in their election to office), while simultaneously condemning your divisive, racist rants and policies.
As a Jew who has proud Republican family members who I love and cherish, I am ashamed of what you have done to the Republican party; to conservative ideals – even if I do not share all of those ideals.
As a Jew whose Christian uncle fought heroically at the Battle of the Bulge for our country and for the salvation of Europe – I am ashamed by the mockery you visit upon his sacrifice.
As the son of a Christian pilot, later converted to Judaism, who led American pilots to glorious victory over Nazi Germany, I am outraged by your embrace of neo-Nazi’s and racists in America (that same pilot, who became a squadron commander in the Israeli Air Force, and fought for Israel’s independence).
As a Jew, I am disgraced by your fawning adoration of the worst dictators of our century – you violate Christian and Jewish values by doing so.
As a Jew; as a well-informed Jew who loves and cares deeply for Israel and for America, I condemn you and call you out for the divisive fool, the ogre, the ghoul that you are.
May my soul not enter your council, let me not join your assembly.[4]

(words of Danny Maseng)

---------------

So, this is where we are this Shabbat – the second of the Seven Sabbaths of Comfort and Consolation leading towards Rosh Hashanah.

We cannot give up the hope for extremism on all sides to be defeated.

We cannot give up the hope for mutual respect and compromise to come to ascendancy in our own country, in Israel/Palestine and around the world.

Parashat Ekev describes God’s relationship to the Land of Israel by saying:

It is a land which the Eternal your God looks after; the eyes of the Eternal your God are always upon it, from year's beginning to year's end.

May that divine providence be over not just our spiritual homeland of Israel -- but also over these United States of America and over all the world – working its way through we the people.

Let us not let divisiveness and hate stand in the way.

Shabbat shalom.

August 2019/ Av 5779

[1] https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/20/us/politics/trump-jewish-voters.html?module=inline

[2] https://twitter.com/AviMayer/status/1163954559888347136

[3] https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/donald-trump/trump-doubles-down-calling-jewish-democrats-disloyal-israel-n1044861

[4] https://www.facebook.com/danny.maseng/posts/10216795961544980

Posted on August 26, 2019 by David Steinberg.

THE VISION THING

Thoughts on Shabbat Chazon (5779/2019)

[Torah portion: Devarim (Deut. 3:23 – 7:11)]

[I shared the following dvar torah with the congregation on Friday evening 8/9/19, the start of Zippy’s bat mitzvah weekend.]

This Shabbat is traditionally known as Shabbat Chazon – “The Sabbath of Vision” after the first phrase in tomorrow morning’s Haftarah:

א חֲזוֹן, יְשַׁעְיָהוּ בֶן-אָמוֹץ, אֲשֶׁר חָזָה…

1 The vision (“chazon”) of Isaiah the son of Amoz, which he envisioned (“chazah”) concerning Judah and Jerusalem, in the days of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, kings of Judah.

ב שִׁמְעוּ שָׁמַיִם וְהַאֲזִינִי אֶרֶץ, כִּי יְהוָה דִּבֵּר: בָּנִים גִּדַּלְתִּי וְרוֹמַמְתִּי, וְהֵם פָּשְׁעוּ בִי.

2 Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth, for the Eternal has spoken: Children I have reared, and brought up, and they have rebelled against Me.

(Isaiah 1: 1-2)

Now, I don’t know how rebellious a child Zippy has or hasn’t been towards her parents in the first 13 years of her life. However, I think it’s safe to say that with regard to her Jewish heritage she has embraced it rather than rebelled from it. All of us here at Temple Israel are so proud of Zippy for her diligence and thoughtfulness and dedication that has brought her and her family to this happy occasion. And I for one have confidence that, to the extent that Zippy may be rebellious in her future life-- it will be righteous rebelliousness on behalf of creating a better world.

As for Isaiah’s vision of the rebellious children of Israel, the reason Zippy will be chanting those particular words in the haftarah tomorrow morning is because the Shabbat of Torah portion Devarim is always the Shabbat immediately preceding the observance of Tisha B’Av, the 9th of Av. The Mishnah teaches that the 9th of Av was the date of a whole slew of calamities in Jewish history, including the destruction of both the first Temple by the Babylonians in 586 BCE and the second Temple by the Romans in 70 CE.

Shabbat this week falls exactly on the 9th of Av but our tradition is that the joyfulness, peace, thanksgiving and hope of Shabbat trumps the mourning and sadness of Tisha B’Av, so, those who observe Tisha B’Av will not begin doing so until tomorrow evening when Shabbat ends.

And, admittedly, even when it doesn’t coincide with Shabbat, the prescribed sadness of Tisha B’Av doesn’t resonate all that much with many of us.

The Talmud teaches that the second Temple was destroyed because Israelite society of the time was filled with “sinat chinam” (“causeless hatred”)[1] and traditional Jewish liturgy asserts that we were exiled from the Land “mipnei chata’eynu” (“because of our sins.”).[2] That sort of “blame the victim” theology is generally repugnant to many of us.

But nevertheless, when we try to put this all into a contemporary context – isn’t our own American society today engulfed with sinat chinam/ causeless hatred? And, in particular, hatred of would be asylum seekers and migrants fleeing violence and abject poverty in search of a better and safer life here in this country?

Indeed, the images of national calamity and starving refugees that we find in Megillat Eicha/ The Book of Lamentations and in other liturgy of Tisha B’Av – these images resonate this year.

Here’s an excerpt from an article from today’s edition of the Philadelphia Inquirer that my friend and colleague Rabbi Shawn Zevit shared on social media today:,

The article is entitled: “For Jewish Groups In Philly Protesting Trump’s Treatment Of Migrants, The Spiritual Is Political.”

I’ll share a short excerpt:

“As President Donald Trump continues to toughen his policies toward immigrants, particularly those who mass at the southwest border, Jews in the Philadelphia area and across the country are escalating their protests and public actions to levels that, some say, have not been seen since the civil rights movement in the 1960s.

“They’ve become an increasingly visible presence, helmed nationally by such newborn Jewish coalitions as Never Again Action, formed in June, as well as older groups like the human-rights organization T’ruah.

“Many of them will be participating in a Jewish-run vigil at the Liberty Bell on Sunday. It will coincide with the fast of Tisha B’Av, commemorating the destruction of the Holy Temples, and use the fast’s liturgy to raise awareness of the tortured journey of today’s asylum-seekers.”[3]

Here in Minnesota, there will be an action taking place in Elk River on Sunday evening that I plan to attend. What is going to be happening is that at 7:30 p.m. this Sunday, as Tisha B’Av draws to a close, a number of Minnesota and national Jewish groups will be gathering in Elk River, Minnesota, outside the Sherburne County Jail, which is where the largest number of ICE detainees are held in our state while they await trial.

The description of the event --- which you can find on Facebook[4] – goes on to say:

“Join us in Elk River at 7:30 PM for peaceful, lawful assembly, with a focus on Jewish ritual. We will pray, chant Eicha, and blow the shofar, calling us in to action, advocacy and solidarity, demonstrating publicly that the Jewish community will not turn its back on refugees arriving in our country and our immigrant neighbors already here […]

After a few more logistical details it says…

“The immigrant-led organization United We Dream is asking allies to hold vigils and protests outside Immigration Customs Enforcement (ICE) office nationwide. On Tisha B’Av (August 11, 2019), NCJW, T’ruah, Bend the Arc, the RAC and J Street are partnering to coordinate Jewish vigils and protests nationwide, demanding an end to this unfolding modern-day catastrophe.”

And on the website for Truah – which is an organization of North American rabbis from all streams of Judaism concerned with human rights issues --- you can find the following background information:

“Tisha B’Av is a day of mourning for the plight of our refugee ancestors. On this Jewish day of mourning, we cannot ignore the cries of those whose tragedy is right before us, the many immigrants and asylum seekers who are being treated inhumanely by the Trump administration. We need to demonstrate publicly that the Jewish community will not turn its back on refugees arriving in our country and our immigrant neighbors already here.”[5]

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

The kipah I’m wearing tonight is from El Paso, Texas.

[Reads text on inside of kipah which has the English and Hebrew names and dates for the Bar Mitzvah of Aaron Rosendorf in 2017.]

So, my good friend, New Mexico State University Las Cruces History Professor Neal Rosendorf, the father of Aaron -- whose bar mitzvah I was thrilled to attend in El Paso two years ago --- my good friend Neal was lovingly haranguing me a couple of weeks ago about how absolutely critical it is for all of us to stand up to the cruel, inhumane immigration and asylum policies of our current presidential administration.

I was frankly a little annoyed and exasperated when Neal insisted on texting me photos of harsh conditions in ICE detention camps near El Paso which he himself had photographed.

And I was discomfited when Neal hectored me wanting to make sure that I was reading closely enough all of his many tweets on Twitter on the subject.

And, in the last sentence of a long text message he sent me on July 30th he said, and I quote,

“What are you doing, period, to address the central moral issue of our time?”

And he followed that up the next morning by texting me:

“Nota bene, that last message is meant more as a call to arms than a rebuke – although I will not underplay its pointedly admonitory tone. You have considerable moral authority and convening power, and a concomitant responsibility to deploy them. Join the fight. Lives, and the soul of America, depend on it.”

Phew …

Okay – so I decided not to respond while I took some time to cool off.

But then, only three days later, came the terrorist attack in El Paso by one of our fellow Americans who decided that shooting up a Walmart in pursuit of an immigrant-free America was a noble cause. The terrorist reportedly claims that his repugnant ideas – which he posted on the internet twenty minutes before committing mass murder --- preceded any policy enactments of the current presidential administration. But the terrorist’s words – decrying a so-called “invasion” on our southern border -- echoed those of our Commander-in-Chief.

So, last Saturday afternoon, once I learned about the shootings in El Paso, I put aside any annoyance I had with my friend Neal and I contacted him to make sure that he and his family were okay

AND to tell him that I appreciated his passion for justice on this issue

AND to assure him that I do in fact speak about the immigration crisis in my work as a rabbi

-- as in fact I am doing in speaking to all of you right now.

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

Tisha B’Av this year is as relevant as it has ever been because sinat chinam (“causeless hatred”) is running amok just as our tradition teaches was the case in the land of Israel in the year 70 of the common era.

So here in the year 2019 of the common era, let’s counter sinat chinam / causeless hatred – with ahavat chinam --- causeless love ---

Love that requires no justification.

Love of our neighbors and love of the stranger.

The sort of love and compassion that we strive to cultivate in our families and in our communities, including the community that comprises this holy congregation of Temple Israel --- and the worldwide fellowship of Am Yisra’el/ The Jewish people.

Together, as Jews and our allies committed to Tikkun Olam/ the repair of the world, with God’s help, may we achieve that Chazon – that Vision – of Isaiah which Zippy will chant about in her haftarah tomorrow morning:

Learn to do good.
Devote yourselves to justice;
Aid the wronged.
Uphold the rights of the orphan;
Defend the cause of the widow.

"Come, let us reach an understanding,

--declares the Eternal--

Be your sins like crimson,
They can turn snow-white;
Be they red as dyed wool,
They can become like fleece."

If, then, you agree and give heed,
You will eat the good things of the earth;

[…]

After that you shall be called
City of Righteousness, Faithful City."[6]

Shabbat Shalom.

Av 5779/ August 2019

[1] Yoma 9b

[2] See, e.g., Koren Siddur Nusach Ashkenaz edited by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (musaf Amidah pp. 812-813)

[3] https://www.inquirer.com/news/jewish-immigration-protests-ice-spiritual-20190809.html?fbclid=IwAR1U7zScNh7YdKvMX3_b1tDAE7PlyoiyFdDtBCwqc1H4_c7S6Z1m-ZAu_cQ

[4] https://www.facebook.com/events/2321854877903710/

[5] https://www.truah.org/tisha-bav-jews-say-closethecamps/

[6] Isaiah 1: 17-19, 26b

Posted on August 13, 2019 by David Steinberg.

REMARKS AT RALLY FOR MIGRANTS

Temple Israel was one of the faith communities that participated in a walk and vigil on Sunday, June 23, 2019. Here is a link to a news story about the event: https://www.wdio.com/news/migrant-policy-awareness-twin-ports-interfaith/5399983/

Various local faith community leaders were invited to share brief statements. Here is the statement that I shared:

Posted on June 26, 2019 by David Steinberg.

THE ROADIES DON'T MIND

(Dvar Torah on Parashat Bemidbar, Numbers 1:1 – 4:20)

[I’m currently serving on the Board of Directors of my professional association, the Reconstructionist Rabbinical Association. Earlier this month I was invited to give the dvar torah for our Board meeting in Wyncote, Pennsylvania. Here’s what I shared with my colleagues]

As you all surely know, the Israel and Diaspora Torah reading cycles are currently divergent because of 8th day of Passover having fallen on Shabbat this year. In my congregation we are following the Israel cycle so we did Parshat Bemidbar last Shabbat and will do Parashat Naso this coming Shabbat. But since Parashat Bemidbar is the official Diaspora reading for this week I’m hoping it will be okay for me to share some of what I wrote about for last Shabbat.

When Parashat Bemidbar comes around each year I think of the singer Jackson Browne. In his classic album from 1978 entitled “Running on Empty” (and chas vechalilah[1] that any of us at the moment should feel that we are running on empty…) --- in that album Jackson Browne has a song called “The Load Out”.

And what does “The Load Out” have to do with Parashat Bemidbar? Well, when I recite the lyrics to you right now, wherever Jackson Browne refers to “roadies” just substitute in your mind the word “Levites” and you’ll see what I mean[2]:

Now the seats are all empty
Let the roadies take the stage
Pack it up and tear it down
They're the first to come and last to leave
Working for that minimum wage
They'll set it up in another town
Tonight the people were so fine
They waited there in line
And when they got up on their feet they made the show
And that was sweet,
But I can hear the sound
Of slamming doors and folding chairs
And that's a sound they'll never know

Now roll them cases out and lift them amps
Haul them trusses down and ge t'em up them ramps
'Cause when it comes to moving me
You know you guys are the champs
But when that last guitar's been packed away
You know that I still want to play
So just make sure you got it all set to go
Before you come for my piano

But the band's on the bus
And they're waiting to go
We've got to drive all night and do a show in Chicago
Or Detroit, I don't know
We do so many shows in a row
And these towns all look the same
We just pass the time in our hotel rooms
And wander 'round backstage
Till those lights come up and we hear that crowd
And we remember why we came

Now we got country and western on the bus
R&B, we got disco in eight tracks and cassettes in stereo
We've got rural scenes and magazines
And We've got truckers on the cb
We've got Richard Pryor on the video
We got time to think of the ones we love
While the miles roll away
But the only time that seems too short
Is the time that we get to play

People you've got the power over what we do
You can sit there and wait
Or you can pull us through
Come along, sing the song
You know you can't go wrong
'Cause when that morning sun comes beating down
You're going to wake up in your town
But we'll be scheduled to appear
A thousand miles away from here[3]

So that’s Jackson Browne’s ode to the Roadies.

And here’s Parashat Bemidbar’s ode to the Levites:

וְאַתָּה הַפְקֵד אֶת-הַלְוִיִּם עַל-מִשְׁכַּן הָעֵדֻת וְעַל כָּל-כֵּלָיו, וְעַל כָּל-אֲשֶׁר-לוֹ--הֵמָּה יִשְׂאוּ אֶת-הַמִּשְׁכָּן וְאֶת-כָּל-כֵּלָיו, וְהֵם יְשָׁרְתֻהוּ; וְסָבִיב לַמִּשְׁכָּן, יַחֲנוּ.

And you shall appoint the Levites over the Tabernacle of the Testimony, all its furnishings, and everything that pertains to it: they shall carry the Tabernacle and all its furnishings, and they shall tend it; and they shall camp around the Tabernacle.

That’s what it says in Numbers 1:50.

Later in the parasha we have descriptions of the specific porterage duties of the three Levite clans – the Kohathites, the Gershonites, and the Merrarites.

The description of the duties of the Kohathite clan has a prominent place, since it forms the conclusion of Parashat Bemidbar.

Here’s what the Torah says about the particular job of the Kohathite clan within the tribe of Levi: Their job is to carry on their shoulders all of the holiest objects in the Israelite camp whenever the camp would journey onwards (or, to use Jackson Brownian metaphors – whenever the band would be taking its show to the next town on its tour). For Jackson Browne’s band that would include the amps, the guitars, the lights, the chairs and that holy of holies – the piano. For the Israelites it would include the ark, and the tablets within the ark, and the furniture and utensils used in the rituals of the Tabernacle.

Earlier in the parasha, the text had specified that the Kohathites don’t start transporting those holy objects until after Aaron and his sons have dismantled them and wrapped them up.

And now, in the very last verses of the parasha, Numbers 4: 17-20--- we get a couple of portentous warnings:

יז וַיְדַבֵּר יְ-ה-וָ-ה, אֶל-מֹשֶׁה וְאֶל-אַהֲרֹן לֵאמֹר. יח אַל-תַּכְרִיתוּ, אֶת-שֵׁבֶט מִשְׁפְּחֹת הַקְּהָתִי, מִתּוֹךְ, הַלְוִיִּם. יט וְזֹאת עֲשׂוּ לָהֶם, וְחָיוּ וְלֹא יָמֻתוּ, בְּגִשְׁתָּם, אֶת-קֹדֶשׁ הַקֳּדָשִׁים: אַהֲרֹן וּבָנָיו, יָבֹאוּ, וְשָׂמוּ אוֹתָם אִישׁ אִישׁ עַל-עֲבֹדָתוֹ, וְאֶל-מַשָּׂאוֹ. כ וְלֹא-יָבֹאוּ לִרְאוֹת כְּבַלַּע אֶת-הַקֹּדֶשׁ, וָמֵתוּ. {פ}

Adonai spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying: Do not let the group of Kohathite clans be cut off from among [the rest of] the Levites. Do this with them, that they may live and not die when they approach the most sacred objects: let Aaron and his sons go in and assign each of them to his duties and to his porterage. But let not [the Kohathites] go inside and witness the dismantling of the sanctuary, lest they die.

We should first note here that the Hebrew phrase in Numbers 4:20 --- כְּבַלַּע אֶת-הַקֹּדֶשׁ (“kevala et hakodesh”) – translated in Plaut/JPS as “the dismantling of the sanctuary” could more literally be translated as “the swallowing up of the Holy.” Others translate the verb in this context as “cover up” or “wrap up.”

What’s going on here? Why can’t the Kohathites look at the holy objects while they are being dismantled or covered or wrapped or swallowed up? Why is it critical that Moses and Aaron take special care to make sure that the Kohathites don’t get “cut off” from the rest of their fellow Levites?

Traditional and contemporary commentators offer various explanations. However, for me, the view of the 19th century German commentator Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch resonates most strongly.

Hirsch offers this explanation:

“If we are not in error, the intent of this prohibition is that the sacred things should remain to their bearers ideational concepts, not objects of physical perception, so that these individuals should be inspired all the more by the ideals the objects represent. The spiritual contemplation of the sacred objects entrusted to the care of the Kehathites would seem to be an essential aspect of their duties, and a physical perception of these objects while they are being covered would distract the Kehathites from their spiritual contemplation and thereby in effect desecrate the objects themselves.” [4]

If I might put this into my own words, I think what the Torah and Rabbi Hirsch are talking about is the danger of cynicism when one is too much of an “insider.”

The Kohathites might metaphorically “die” in the sense of being spiritually disillusioned by seeing the holy objects swallowed up or in a state of disarray. Sort of like Dorothy in the Wizard of OZ peeking behind the curtain and seeing just an ordinary person playing with sound effects.

If your passion is music, maybe you might get disillusioned by getting too much of an insider’s view of the business side of contract negotiations and labor disputes. (Hopefully, that hasn’t been the case for Jackson Browne’s roadies.)

If you’re a legislator you might get disillusioned by the messy “sausage making” deals involved in passing laws.

If you’re a school teacher or academic you might get disillusioned by turf wars and budget battles.

For us as rabbis, and for any of our fellow clergypeople, we might get disillusioned by congregational or agency politics.

I think what the Torah is saying --- when it warns Moses and Aaron to wrap up the holy objects so that the Kohathites don’t see those objects in their dismantled state is this: We need to safeguard our idealism through our own conscious efforts to avoid cynicism. In this sense, we are like the Kohathites of old. We have to consciously work at not being cynical.

At the same time, we hope to be shielded from cynicism by the support and mentorship of others who can help protect us from disillusionment. Such was the role of Moses, Aaron and Aaron’s sons with respect to the Kohathites. In this sense, we are like Moses, Aaron and Aaron’s sons for those who look to us for mentorship. One of our jobs as rabbis is to model idealism and to put up roadblocks against cynicism for those who look to us as mentors.

Ideals are by definition illusory in the sense that they are not yet reality.

The Torah took care that the Kohathites would not suffer the death of being swallowed up in cynicism and disillusionment. As for us, may we be blessed with the capacity to retain our ideals while guarding ourselves from such a fate.

For we are a people who are called upon to choose life.

[1] Traditional exclamation roughly translated as “Heaven forbid”

[2] To hear the song go to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vk7mFRWt-sY

[3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Running_on_Empty_(album)

[4] (The Hirsch Commentary, edited by Ephraim Oratz, translated from the original German by Gertrude Hirschler, New York, The Judaica Press, 1986, p. 526)

Posted on June 10, 2019 by David Steinberg.

THE VALUE OF A LIFE

(Thoughts on Parashat Bechukotai - Leviticus 26:3 – 27:34)

[Dvar Torah given at Temple Israel on Friday 5/24/19]

Earlier this month the renowned teacher and writer Avivah Zornberg visited us here at Temple Israel to deliver this year’s Silver Interfaith Memorial Lecture. The subject of her lecture was the Book of Ruth, the Tanakh’s great story of a one-time stranger joining a new community. Indeed, subsequent Jewish tradition sees Ruth the Moabite as the paradigmatic example of the ger tzedek or giyoret tzedek – the righteous proselyte who, while not being born Jewish, chooses to join our people.

We read in Ruth 1:14 that Ruth’s mother-in-law Naomi tried to convince Ruth to go back to her native land --- וְר֖וּת דָּ֥בְקָה בָּֽהּ׃ “BUT RUTH CLUNG TO HER” – and two verses later Ruth further declares to Naomi:

“Do not urge me to leave you, to turn back and not follow you. For wherever you go, I will go; wherever you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. Thus and more may the Eternal do to me if anything but death parts me from you.” [1]

The Book of Ruth is traditionally read on the festival of Shavuot, which arrives just over a week from now. One obvious reason for this is to remind us that, even for those of us who were born into Jewish families, we all in our own ways choose how we will inhabit our Jewishness. Just as Ruth chose to join the Jewish people, so in our sacred story did our people as a whole choose to accept God’s Torah on Mount Sinai – an event we commemorate on Shavuot.

But still, there is something special and auspicious about a person deciding for themselves to convert to Judaism. As my colleague Rabbi Goldie Milgram beautifully expresses it:

“It is not easy to become a Jew; we don’t have instant conversions. There is a process of admission involving extensive study and serious ritual. Not everyone is meant to be Jewish in this life. If your soul needs it, however, it is my experience that nothing will stop you from finding your way in.” [2]

One of the key rituals involved in conversion to Judaism, representing the end of the long process of preparation, is immersion in a mikveh – a ritual pool that contains so-called 'Mayim Chayim,' --- living waters --- which are connected to a gathering of natural rainwater. Emerging from the mikvah is compared to emerging from the waters of the womb, in effect a new birth. Indeed, it’s no coincidence that Christian traditions of baptism also often involve similar metaphors of being born again.

We at Temple Israel are particularly appreciative of how our congregation has been enriched by the presence of many gerey hatzedek – many Jews by choice. Indeed, tomorrow morning one such individual, who completed her process of conversion earlier this week, will be called to the Torah for the first time, and our Shabbat kiddush lunch tomorrow is being sponsored in her honor.

In the course of my career as a Rabbi I have worked with quite a few conversion candidates. And it used to be the case for me that --- whenever I would be in the situation of having worked with a conversion student for many months --- and when I would finally hear the sound of their head coming back up to break the surface of the water after their first immersion --- on such occasions I would think to myself – wow --- I guess the way I feel is somewhat akin to what it must feel like to give birth – to deliver a new soul into the world.

Well, in recent years I have stopped invoking that metaphor.

Why? Because women friends of mine who have ACTUALLY given birth to new human beings --- Jewish or otherwise – have politely but firmly assured me that I -- as a person who has not physically given birth to a human being --- HAVE NO IDEA – AND CAN’T POSSIBLY HAVE ANY IDEA --- OF HOW IT FEELS TO GIVE BIRTH OR OF WHAT CARRYING A CHILD TO TERM WITHIN ONE’S OWN BODY FEELS LIKE.

Yes, I am duly humbled by this.

I guess new Dad Prince Harry said it well a few weeks ago when he humbly admitted –

“How any woman does what they do is beyond comprehension”[3]

Yes, humility is definitely in order for anyone who would purport to impose controls on a pregnant woman’s control of her own body as she deals with a process that is indeed “beyond comprehension” for someone who has not experienced it themselves.

And yet, we see an increasing trend of state legislatures in this country seeking to limit a woman’s right to make her own choices regarding whether to carry a pregnancy to term. It is true that some of the proponents of stricter limitations on abortion are themselves women, and, indeed, it was a woman -- Alabama Governor Kay Ivey -- who last week signed that state's controversial near-total abortion ban.[4]

However, many of us will agree that the bigger picture is one of men subjugating women by attempting to take away from them choices that should ultimately be for pregnant women themselves to make.

The Jewish Council for Public Affairs, a broadly-based organization whose affiliate members include both the Union for Reform Judaism and Reconstructing Judaism, issued a statement on this matter last week which reads in part as follows:

“Jewish Council for Public Affairs (JCPA) condemns Alabama’s new law banning abortion even in cases of rape and incest, as well as other extreme anti-abortion bills in various states. These measures undermine women’s reproductive freedom, endanger women’s health, and criminalize women who get abortions and doctors who perform them.

“Though Alabama’s new law is the most extreme so far, other states, such as Georgia, Ohio, Kentucky, and Mississippi, have adopted or are close to adopting bills that effectively ban abortion, including “heartbeat” and other similarly restrictive laws. Many of these new bills criminalize women obtaining abortions and abortion providers, who could serve life in prison.

“We are deeply concerned about the growing effort to overturn Roe v. Wade and limit women’s reproductive health care access. Courts should immediately enjoin these bills, as they clearly violate settled Supreme Court precedent.

[…]

“JCPA is committed to safeguarding and strengthening the spirit and impact of Roe v. Wade. For decades, we have advocated at the state and federal levels, joined amicus briefs, and adopted policy resolutions in support of women’s reproductive freedom. The decision to end a pregnancy is a difficult and personal one that should only be made by a woman in consultation with her doctor and others she chooses to involve.”[5]

How did we get here? That’s a far bigger question than can be answered in a brief dvar Torah.

But I have no doubt that this mindset of trying to control women’s autonomy is an age-old problem. We need look no further than this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Bechukotai (Leviticus 26:3 – 27:34) .

In Leviticus 27 – the last chapter of Leviticus --- in a sort of appendix to what is in many respects is the most problematic of the five books of the Torah --- the Torah sets out a framework for determining the value of a person.

Basically, this was a practice by which a person desiring to make a special donation for the upkeep of the Tabernacle (or later, the Temple), could do so by making their donation in an amount that was determined to be equivalent to the economic value of a specific individual. However, the valuation of a woman of any particular age was always set at significantly less than that of a man of the same age.

As it says in the opening verses of Leviticus 27:

“The Eternal spoke to Moses, saying: 2 Speak to the Israelite people and say to them: When anyone explicitly vows to the Eternal the equivalent for a human being, 3 the following scale shall apply: If it is a male from twenty to sixty years of age, the equivalent is fifty shekels of silver by the sanctuary weight; 4 if it is a female, the equivalent is thirty shekels. 5 If the age is from five years to twenty years, the equivalent is twenty shekels for a male and ten shekels for a female. 6 If the age is from one month to five years, the equivalent for a male is five shekels of silver, and the equivalent for a female is three shekels of silver. 7 If the age is sixty years or over, the equivalent is fifteen shekels in the case of a male and ten shekels for a female.”[6]

One can argue that the Torah was only reflecting the lived social realities of its time in saying that women were worth less than men as an economic measurement.

But, is it really too much to argue that, if we truly valued women as much as men, then we wouldn’t consider restricting a woman’s autonomy over her own body?

There are moral gray areas in all of this. People may differ concerning the personhood of a fetus at various stages of its development. And people may differ concerning society’s interest in protecting not only existing life but potential life.

However, women I know have in recent days been expressing visceral fear and anxiety about these latest legislative efforts to take away from them their right to make their own choices about their own bodies.

And, as Jews who believe in the value of treating each person as btzelem Elohim/ in the image of God --- and who believe in particular that – as it says in Genesis 1:27 that this characterization of btzelem Elohim goes for both women and men -- we cannot let this threat to women go unchallenged.

The inequities in the valuation scale in Leviticus 27 remind us that inequities exist to the present day in the way we treat one another. Sexist attempts to take away from women the fundamental right of bodily autonomy should concern us all, even – and perhaps especially – when they stem in part from aspects of our own religious heritage and of that our fellow citizens.

Shabbat shalom.

[1] Ruth 1: 16-17

[2] Rabbi Goldie Milgram, Reclaiming Judaism as a Spiritual Practice: Holy Days and Shabbat, 2004, p. 133.

[3] https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/06/world/europe/meghan-markle-baby-boy.html?action=click&module=RelatedCoverage&pgtype=Article&region=Footer

[4] https://www.cbsnews.com/news/alabama-abortion-law-governor-kay-ivey-signs-near-total-ban-today-live-updates-2019-05-15/

[5] https://www.jewishpublicaffairs.org/jcpa-is-committed-to-protecting-womens-reproductive-freedom/

[6] Lev. 27: 1- 7

Posted on May 28, 2019 by David Steinberg.

A GENEROUS GIFT

(Thoughts on Parashat Metzora for Shabbat Hagadol 5779/2019)

Dvar Torah given at Temple Israel on Friday evening 4/12/19

This Shabbat is Shabbat Hagadol/ “The Great Sabbath” – our tradition’s nickname for the last Shabbat before the start of Passover.

This Shabbat is also the second of two Shabbatot when the weekly Torah portion deals with “tzara’at.” Old translations of the Torah translated the Hebrew word “tzaraat” as “Leprosy,” but Jewish commentators throughout the centuries have been clear that whatever “tzara’at” is, it’s not that.

What exactly is it? If a person is “Metzora” which is to say, if a person is afflicted with “Tzara’at” what does that mean? The Jewish Publication Society translation that we follow translates tzaraat as an “eruptive plague”, but it’s still difficult to figure out what that means, since the term “tzaraat” in the Torah is applied to various seemingly unrelated phenomena including skin conditions, discolorations on articles of clothing and --- in this week’s Torah portion – colored streaks in the walls of brick houses.

With respect to the latter phenomenon, the Torah introduces the topic in this weeks Torah portion, Parashat Metzora, at Leviticus 14: 34-38 as follows:

34 When you enter the land of Canaan that I give you as a possession, and I inflict an eruptive plague upon a house in the land you possess, 35 the owner of the house shall come and tell the priest, saying, "Something like a plague has appeared upon my house." 36 The priest shall order the house cleared before the priest enters to examine the plague, so that nothing in the house may become unclean; after that the priest shall enter to examine the house. 37 If, when he examines the plague, the plague in the walls of the house is found to consist of greenish or reddish streaks that appear to go deep into the wall, 38 the priest shall come out of the house to the entrance of the house, and close up the house for seven days.

What shall we do with such a weird law?

Well, for one thing, there’s a teaching in the Talmud that says we should treat this all as a symbolic allegory. As we learn in Tractate Sanhedrin 71a:

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בית המנוגע לא היה ולא עתיד להיות ולמה נכתב דרוש וקבל שכר

“A house inflicted with plague never occurred and never will occur in the future. So why is it written? To study it and to be rewarded for studying it.”

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But that still begs the question: What are we supposed to learn from studying it?

One traditional response comes from taking a closer look at the language of Leviticus 14:34. The Jewish Publication Society translation of this verse says:

“When you enter the land of Canaan and I INFLICT an eruptive plague upon a house in the land you possess….”

But the original Hebrew says “VENATATI” which doesn’t literally mean “and I inflict.” The literal translation of “VENATATI” is “I will give!”

And, according to some of the classic commentators , the expression VENATATI – “I WILL GIVE” (from the root nun-tav-nun) implies “MATANAH” a gift (That is to say the words “venatati” and “matanah” are derived from the same Hebrew root)….

But how can a plague be a GIFT?

Rashi quotes an old midrash that says that when the Israelites would enter the Land of Israel and occupy houses abandoned by previous inhabitants, that the plague in the walls would lead them to knock down the walls and that when they did so they would find buried treasures of gold.

I guess this is another way of expressing the well-known idea that even our worst tragedies can have a silver lining.

But that’s still hard to accept when one is in the midst of a crisis or in the immediate aftermath of a tragedy. Sometimes it just takes time before we can find the gift, the blessing, in the challenges that life places before us.

Another interpretation of tzaraat as a gift is found in the Talmud in Tractate Arachin where the plague is considered a “gift” in the sense that it serves as a timely warning of one’s own character flaws. Just like the pain one senses when touching a burning stove is a gift in the sense of alerting us to pull our hand back before it gets even more hurt.

Here’s what the Talmud in Tractate Arachin says about this:

אמר ריש לקיש מאי דכתיב (ויקרא יד) זאת תהיה תורת המצורע זאת תהיה תורתו של מוציא שם רע

(Arachin 15b)

“Resh Lakish said: What is the meaning of the verse: “This shall be the ritual concerning the metzora”. (Lev. 14:2) It means “this shall be the ritual concerning “motzi shem ra” (one who speaks calumny)”

In other words -- one who speaks ill of another, one who engages in lashon hara/ evil speech.

Rashi says that the divine warning to watch one’s tongue first appears in the walls of one’s house, then, if not heeded, appears in one’s clothing and finally, if not heeded, on one’s body. All to try to tell us to be more sensitive regarding the way we speak to or about others.

That seems especially important in times like these when ideological battles divide our country to an extent that we have seldom seen in modern times. As candidates start gearing up for next year’s national elections it still remains to be seen whether the winning candidate will be the one who manages to mobilize their own hyperpartisan base or whether it will be the one who manages to reconcile at least some of the divisions that distance us from one another. I, personally, am betting on the latter.

Another moral lesson that the Torah gives us in Parashat Metzora concerns the importance of being charitable and generous. For this interpretation, the Talmud in Tractate Yoma focuses on the language used in Leviticus 14:35.

The JPS translation that I read you a few moments ago for this verse renders it like this:

35 the owner of the house shall come and tell the priest, saying, "Something like a plague has appeared upon my house." 3

However, that translation smoothes out the Hebrew, which, if translated literally, is a little clunkier. The beginning of the verse doesn’t actually say “the owner of the house shall come.” Rather it says –

וּבָא אֲשֶׁר-לוֹ הַבַּיִת

“The one that to him is the house” comes and says to the Kohen --- Something like a plague, it seems to me is in the house.”

The Talmud asks – why does the Torah use that awkward locution? Why does it say “the one that to him is the house”-- or, more specifically, what does the language “to him” imply:

And it gives the following answer:

“Why then ‘to him’? [That means to say that] if one devotes his house to himself exclusively, refusing to lend his belongings by pretending he did not own them, the Holy One, blessed be God, exposes him as he removes his belongings. Thus ‘to him’ excludes [from the infliction of the house plague] him who lends his belongings to others.”[1]

This refers to a midrash:

It is written, "The produce of his house will disappear, they shall flow away in the day of His anger" (Iyov 20), they will flow away and be found. When? On the day that the Holy One arouses His anger against that person. How does this come about? A person says to his neighbor, "Lend me a kav of wheat." The neighbor replies: "I have none." "Then a kav of barley?" "I have none." A woman says to her neighbor: "Lend me a sifter." She replies, "I have none." "Lend me a sieve?" She replies, "I have none." What does the Holy One do? He brings a plague on the house, and when the man is forced to take out all of his belongings, everyone sees and they say, "Didn't he say that he had nothing? Look how much wheat he has! How much barley! How many dates there are here!" (Vayikra Rabba 17)

And so what we learn from this midrash is that we should be generous in our dealings with others.

It is in that spirit that we also concern ourselves with the poor and needy in our society.

And it is in that spirit that we will say at our Passover seder tables next week:

“All who are hungry, let them come and eat. All who are needy, let them celebrate Passover with us.”

Shabbat Shalom.

Nisan 5779/ April 2019

[1] Yoma 11b

Posted on April 15, 2019 by David Steinberg.

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