BLACK LIVES MATTER

Sermon for Yom Kippur morning 5781

September 28, 2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As we learn in another classic teaching from the Mishnah:

Tractate Sanhedrin 4:5 –

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

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

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

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

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

Rabbi David Greenspoon describes it as follows.  He writes:

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

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

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

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

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

Trayvon Martin

Michael Brown

Eric Garner 

Ezell Ford

Michelle Cusseaux

Tanisha Anderson

Tamir Rice

Natasha McKenna

Walter Scott

Bettie Jones

Philando Castile

Botham Jean

Atatiana Jefferson 

Eric Reason 

Dominique Clayton 

Ahmaud Aubrey

Daniel Prude

Breonna Taylor 

George Floyd 

Rayshard Brooks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would that it were so simple.

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

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

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

Herndon writes:

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

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

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

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

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

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

As it says in Deuteronomy 16:18:

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

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

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

These are life and death matters. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

לֹא עָלֶיךָ הַמְּלָאכָה לִגְמֹר, וְלֹא אַתָּה בֶן חוֹרִין לִבָּטֵל מִמֶּנָּה

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

Indeed, may we not desist.   

Gmar Chatimah Tovah.

© Rabbi David Steinberg (September 2020/ Tishri5781)

[1] Pirke Avot 5:22

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

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

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

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

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

[7] Pirke Avot 2:16

CURTAINS

Sermon for Kol Nidre night 5781

September 27, 2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Passover, of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We can see behind the curtain.

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

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

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

But the work remains.

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

אַשְׁרֵי עַֽיִן רָאֲתָה כָל אֵֽלֶּה

“HAPPY IS THE EYE THAT SAW ALL THIS!”

For us it’s not so simple.

But we remain full of hope and determination.

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

Amen.

© Rabbi David Steinberg (September 2020/ Tishri 5781)

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

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

[3] Ta’anit 27b

[4] Lev. 16:20

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

EVEN MORE SO

Sermon for First Day of Rosh Hashanah 5781

September 19, 2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BUT THIS YEAR WE ARE SO FAR FROM THAT IDEAL.

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

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

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

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

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

As a former First Lady advised one recent evening: 

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

In this upcoming election, I know who I support.

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

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

Barcheinu avinu kulanu ke’echad be’or panekha

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

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

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

And then there’s the pandemic.

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

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

who shall live and who shall die,

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

Who by fire and who by water,

who by the sword and who by wild beast,

who by hunger and who by thirst,

who by earthquake and who by plague, “

What are the answers to those questions?

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

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

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

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

ּ וַאֲנַ֗חְנוּ לֹ֤א נֵדַע֙ מַֽה־נַּעֲשֶׂ֔ה כִּ֥י עָלֶ֖יךָ עֵינֵֽינוּ׃

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

That might sound like a passive, fatalistic approach to life

אֲנַ֗חְנוּ לֹ֤א נֵדַע֙ מַֽה־נַּעֲשֶׂ֔ה כִּ֥י עָלֶ֖יךָ עֵינֵֽינוּ׃

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

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

[DEMONSTRATE THIS]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But. funny thing though…

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

וַאֲנַ֗חְנוּ לֹ֤א נֵדַע֙ מַֽה־נַּעֲשֶׂ֔ה כִּ֥י עָלֶ֖יךָ עֵינֵֽינוּ׃

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

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

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

**********

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

When you see a picture like this:

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

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

OR --- “You matter!  Don’t give up!”

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

Some of us were struggling emotionally and/or financially. 

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

[STOP SCREEN SHARE]

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

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

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

Life is like that. 

This past year ---  even more so.

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

And there is much to be done.

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

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

Amen

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

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

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

KEEPING IT TOGETHER

Sermon for Erev Rosh Hashanah 5781

September 18, 2020

This is not a normal year. 

Right now, I am standing in an almost empty sanctuary talking to you over a computer. 

That’s not normal. 

Some of us may be calling this “the new normal” but from my perspective it is still the temporary abnormal. 

But we don’t yet know how long that “temporary” will be.

In the program calendar for 5781 that those of you who are Temple members received in the mail as part of your High Holiday packet, you might have noticed that we wrote that we hoped we could start having in-person services at Temple again in late November.  But really, we don’t know.  It’s all still a question mark.

When Covid-19 related closures started happening back in March we hoped that they would be short lived.  But here we are in September, still trying to figure out how to live in the midst of a pandemic.

At least, through the miracle of Zoom, we can interact with each other, albeit in a somewhat awkward and clumsy way.  So, how about this – would you all do me a favor right now and please unmute yourselves and let’s all say “Shanah Tovah” or “Happy New Year” or “Gut Yuntif” to one another --- decidedly not in precise unison.  Okay – GO!!!

[ALL EXCHANGE GREETINGS]

Ah, that’s nice.  I really miss seeing you all together here at Temple in person!

But I’m so glad that you’ve made the effort to sign on to this Zoom call to take part in the service tonight.  And I hope to see you (and I DO see you – at least if you haven’t turned off your video camera) on other Zoom services throughout the High Holidays and, indeed, on Shabbat as well until this horrible pandemic has been vanquished and we can go back to meeting in person. 

(And I hope that, if your own health concern calculations permit it, that I’ll see some of you --- socially distanced as appropriate – at our congregational Tashlikh at Chester Bowl tomorrow at 4:00 p.m. or at our Rosh Hashanah family service (including children’s tashlikh) at Chester Bowl at 4:00 p.m. on Sunday.)

But, still, this is not a normal year.

I’ll share an anecdote from my own spiritual practice that illustrates what it has been like for me:

In the “V’ahavta” we read about the mitzvah:

וּקְשַׁרְתָּ֥ם לְא֖וֹת עַל־יָדֶ֑ךָ וְהָי֥וּ לְטֹטָפֹ֖ת בֵּ֥ין עֵינֶֽיךָ׃

“You shall bind them (i.e., bind God’s words) as a sign upon your hand and let them serve as a symbol before your eyes” (Deut. 6:8)

Traditionally, on mornings that are not Shabbat morning and not the morning of a major Jewish holiday, that commandment

קְשַׁרְתָּ֥ם לְא֖וֹת עַל־יָדֶ֑ךָ וְהָי֥וּ לְטֹטָפֹ֖ת בֵּ֥ין עֵינֶֽיךָ׃

is concretized through the wearing of tefillin on the arm and the head. 

In recent weeks and months when I have tied the tefillin straps on my arm and hand and placed the other tefillin on my forehead, I’ve had this weird feeling that the tefillin straps were holding me together, as if I were like a scarecrow that would fall apart but for these cords keeping me in one piece.

Perhaps some of you have felt this way lately as well – Maybe it’s not tefillin straps that are symbolically keeping you in one piece; maybe it’s yoga or meditation or running or playing music.

Whatever you are doing to cope and stay centered – whatever you are doing to keep it together -- more power to you!  Keep it up!  Find what works for you!

(Though I can personally recommend that if you are ever feeling stressed, picking up a siddur and davenning can be a very comforting, stabilizing experience.)

Here’s another Jewish teaching that has stuck with me lately – it’s a commentary on a verse from that same Torah portion, Parashat Va’etchanan, that includes the Shema and V’ahavta. 

The opening verse of that parasha, Deuteronomy 3:23, says this:

וָאֶתְחַנַּן, אֶל-ה', בָּעֵת הַהִוא, לֵאמֹר.

“I pleaded with Adonai at that time, saying,”

That’s Moses talking there.  It’s part of his farewell speech to the Israelites that takes up virtually the entire book of Deuteronomy.

So what was Moses pleading about to God when he said:

וָאֶתְחַנַּן, אֶל-ה', בָּעֵת הַהִוא, לֵאמֹר.

“I pleaded with Adonai at that time, saying,”

The verses that follow say that Moses was pleading to enter the Promised Land but that God said “No!”

All of us right now are fervently hoping (whether or not we do so in the context of pleading to God) for an end to this pandemic, for an end to racial injustice, for an end to economic insecurity, for an end to hate, for an end to war, for an end to despair.  We hope God won’t tell us “no” like God told Moses “no”.

We want to enter that promised land:  That promised land of recovery, that promised land of economic security, that promised land of justice, and brotherhood and sisterhood, that promised land of shalom. 

In short, we want to be written in the Book of Life.

God said no to Moses.  Will God say no to us?

So, anyway, here’s that commentary that I have found so insightful and comforting these past weeks and months:

Rabbi Lev Yitzchak of Berditchev, who lived in Eastern Europe from 1740 to 1809 says this about the verse

 וָאֶתְחַנַּן, אֶל-ה', בָּעֵת הַהִוא, לֵאמֹר.

“I pleaded with Adonai at that time, saying,”

He notes that the word “לאמר” – which we usually translate as “saying” can also be translated as an infinitive verb: “to say”.  So we can read the verse as follows:

וָאֶתְחַנַּן, אֶל-ה', בָּעֵת הַהִוא, לֵאמֹר.

I pleaded with Adonai at that time to say,”

-- or to put it more elegantly –

“I pleaded with Adonai at that time for the ability to say   -- for the ability to express my thoughts, my hopes, my prayers.” 

Lev Yitzchak says this:

קודם לא היה יכול לאמר, כי היה בוש מלפניו יתברך

“Before that time Moses was unable “leymor”/ unable “to say” (which we understand to mean “unable to pray”) because he felt ashamed before God.”

והיה צריך להתפלל שיוכל להתפלל

“So he needed to pray that he would be able to pray.”[1]

Thus, the “pleading” referred to in Deuteronomy 3:23 doesn’t refer to the request to enter the land that we find in the subsequent verses.

Rather, the pleading (according Lev Yitzchak) is simply for the ability to pray at all.

And yes, Moses goes on to pray eloquently for the ability to enter the Land of Israel with his people. 

So, in that sense, God did grant Moses’ first prayer – the prayer that he be granted the ability to pray.

I have thought about that commentary a lot recently. 

When we are stressed out and upset --- as we have had ample reason to be in recent weeks and months --- sometimes the healthiest, most healing thing we can do for ourselves is simply to slow down, to breathe deeply, to reflect deeply, and to express what is in our hearts.

If we can formulate the prayer – that, in and of itself, is an answer to our prayers.

Even if what we desire might or might not come to pass.

Whatever happens in this crazy moment in which we are now living, may we at least be granted that prayer – that we be able to pray.

Dena Weiss, the director of the Bet Midrash at the Hadar Institute in New York, says it better than I can. 

She writes:

“We often feel stymied by our inability to say exactly what we want to or to put our complex thoughts or feelings into words.  Moshe’s plea to be allowed to pray emboldens us to try.  It may be embarrassing, we may feel unworthy, we may feel frustrated, but the venture is worth praying for and waiting for. […] Whenever we pray to pray, the response from God is always yes.” [2]

We’ve got a lot of praying to do in the next ten days.  May it be a meaningful, healing and restorative experience that we can share together as a holy congregation. And as for the year ahead ---

Lshanah tovah tikatevu/ May we all be inscribed in the Book of Life and may life itself get back to some semblance of normality before too long.

Amen.

© Rabbi David Steinberg  (September 2020)

[1] https://www.sefaria.org/Deuteronomy.3.23?lang=bi&aliyot=0&p2=Kedushat_Levi%2C_Deuteronomy%2C_Vaetchanan.1&lang2=he

[2] https://www.hadar.org/torah-resource/think-you-pray#source-7531

RABBI’S BULLETIN ARTICLE FOR SEPTEMBER 2020/ ELUL 5780 – TISHREI 5781

The month of Elul on the Jewish calendar this year began at sundown on August 20th and concludes with the arrival of Rosh Hashanah (1st of Tishri) at sundown on September 18th.  This is traditionally a time for each of us to undertake cheshbon hanefesh  (“an accounting of the soul”) as we review our deeds, misdeeds, acts and omissions of the year that is ending.  Part of this process is the making of amends with those in our lives whom we may have hurt or offended.  The process culminates at Yom Kippur (the “Day of Atonement”), on the 10th of Tishri, which this year begins at sundown on September 27th.  The sages teach that the 10th of Tishri was the day on which Moses returned from the mountain top with the second set of tablets, replacing the first set that he had smashed in the wake of the incident of the Golden Calf. 

The second set of tablets thus symbolizes the possibility of forgiveness and of moving forward despite the mistakes of the past.  It’s not exactly about “letting bygones be bygones.” Our tradition teaches that the broken fragments of the first set of tablets were placed next to the unbroken replacement tablets in the Ark of the Covenant.  They remain part of our “permanent record.”  And indeed, the literal translation of the Hebrew word “kippur” is not exactly “atonement” but rather “covering over.” (The cover of the ark of the covenant in Hebrew is called “kapporet,” from the same Hebrew root as “kippur”.).  Covered, not erased.

To me, what this teaches is that our experiences in life remain with us.  There is no “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.”  In the normal state of affairs, we don’t obliterate past sins and hurts so much as we move past them and incorporate their lessons into our future behavior.   So too do our acts of kindness, our joys and our loves in our past remain part of who we are even after they are behind us chronologically. 

We hope and pray that all our experiences leading up to the present moment can help us to be better people in the new year.  

The year 5780 that is now ending has been more of an emotional roller coaster than any time I can remember in my life, with the possible exception of the days and months following the attacks of September 11, 2001.  We are all trying to live our lives as normally as possible while 170,000 of our fellow Americans have died from Covid-19 and while our world is still in the throes of the pandemic.  And we are all trying to be Rodfei Tzedek  (“pursuers of righteousness”) while the legacy of our society’s “original sins” of slavery, Jim Crow and systemic racism have yet to be even covered over, let alone erased. 

It’s a time of cheshbon hanefesh not just in our personal lives but in the life of our nation. And as national elections loom ahead, we find ourselves in the midst of some of the worst societal fissures that I can ever recall.  

And we won’t even get to hug each other in shul this High Holiday season!

But let’s not despair.  We still, each and every one of us, have so many blessings to appreciate and so much to be thankful for each and every day.  We do plan to meet in person at Chester Bowl for Tashlich (on the first afternoon of Rosh Hashanah) and for a family service (on the second afternoon of Rosh Hashanah). And our High Holiday services on Zoom will be a time when we can connect as well – with one another and with the Divine.

As the saying goes “gam zeh ya’avor” (“This too shall pass.”)

I wish for everyone a meaningful High Holiday season.  As 5781 approaches, let us be gentle with ourselves and one another – yet fierce in our pursuit of a more just and compassionate society.

L’shanah tovah tikateyvu 

(“May you be inscribed for a good year”),
Rabbi David Steinberg
rabbidavid@jewishduluth.org

FUGGEDABOUTIT!

Thoughts on Ki Tetze (Deuteronomy 21:10 – 25:9)

(Dvar Torah given at Temple Israel on Friday evening 8/28/20)

This week’s Torah portion, Ki Tetze, has the distinction of containing more mitzvot in it than any other parasha – 72 to be exact, according to Maimonides’ counting.

I want to focus this evening on the particular mitzvah stated in Deuteronomy 24:19 ---

כִּ֣י תִקְצֹר֩ קְצִֽירְךָ֨ בְשָׂדֶ֜ךָ וְשָֽׁכַחְתָּ֧ עֹ֣מֶר בַּשָּׂדֶ֗ה לֹ֤א תָשׁוּב֙ לְקַחְתּ֔וֹ לַגֵּ֛ר לַיָּת֥וֹם וְלָאַלְמָנָ֖ה יִהְיֶ֑ה לְמַ֤עַן יְבָרֶכְךָ֙ יְהוָ֣ה אֱלֹהֶ֔יךָ בְּכֹ֖ל מַעֲשֵׂ֥ה יָדֶֽיךָ׃

"When you reap the harvest in your field and you forget a sheaf in the field, do not turn back to get it; it shall go to the stranger, the orphan and the widow – in order that Adonai your God may bless you in all your undertakings."

At first glance, this seems like a wonderful, straightforward sort of law.  It seems to show a praiseworthy sensitivity to the needs of the poor.  Indeed, some of you will no doubt recognize this mitzvah from its description in the Book of Ruth, traditionally read on Shavuot:  Ruth and her mother-in-law Naomi have fled from famine in Moab back to Naomi’s birthplace in Jewish Bethlehem.  Chapter 2 of Megillat Rut describes Ruth gleaning behind the reapers in the fields of her kinsman Boaz.

However, closer examination of the mitzvah of the forgotten sheaf reveals two major difficulties:

First, from a practical standpoint, this is a pretty half-baked way of providing a safety net for the poor.  There may very well not be enough of these forgotten sheaves to provide the basic food supplies of those who are in need.  For example, in the case of Ruth, Boaz ultimately needs to load her down with another six measures of barley in order to be confident that she has enough for her needs (Ruth 3:15).  That’s why the Jewish mitzvah of tzedakah extends far behind the provisions of this particular mitzvah of the forgotten sheaf.

Secondly, from a religious standpoint, what sort of a mitzvah is this that can ONLY be fulfilled UNINTENTIONALLY?  Isn’t it true that one of the most important pillars of Judaism is that human beings have free will   --- free will to choose how and whether to fulfill the commandments that tradition says were given to us by God?

A classic midrash from the Tosefta illustrates this conundrum.  It goes like this:

"A story is told of a pious man who forgot a sheaf in his field.  He said to his son – Go and offer a bull for a burnt-offering and a bull for a peace-offering.  [His son] answered: Father! What makes you want to rejoice in this mitzvah more than in all others in the Torah?  [His father] said to him: The Omnipresent has given all the other mitzvot in the Torah to be observed consciously.  But this one is to be unconsciously observed.  Were we to observe this one of our own deliberate freewill before the Omnipresent, we would have no opportunity of observing it! Rather [scripture] says –“When you reap your harvest and have forgotten a sheaf in the field…” (Tosefta, Peah 3:8)   

So, what ARE we, religiously speaking, to make of a mitzvah that you can’t carry out intentionally?  The "punchline," as it were, of the midrash spells it out:

“Scripture ordains for this a blessing.  Have we not here a kal vechomer (a fortiori) argument?  If when a person has no deliberate intention of performing a good deed it is nevertheless reckoned to that person as a good deed, how much more so when one deliberately performs a good deed?”

In other words, the purpose of this "unintentional mitzvah" is to sensitize us to the even greater importance of doing "intentional mitzvot!"  

I think we can derive an additional lesson from this ----

There are times in each of our lives when, even without consciously realizing it, we are doing good deeds, we are helping others, we are forging connections with God, we are making the world a better place --- just like that farmer in our Torah portion who unwittingly did a mitzvah by “forgetting” to gather some sheaves of the harvest.

So, if you are ever feeling like your life doesn’t matter, like your existence makes no difference in the world --- then this mitzvah of the forgotten sheaf inspires us to give ourselves a second look.  Each of us DOES matter.  Each of us DOES make a difference in the world, even when we don’t have the ability to perceive the subtle ways in which our presence is felt.  Each of us have helped others even when we didn’t know we were doing so.

This realization helps ground us as we approach the new year, as we examine our deeds of this year that is ending. For in this season of teshuvah (return), we are not starting from scratch.    Surely, just as God, as it were,  knows our faults, God must also know how each of us has been a blessing --- even when we didn’t know it.

Shabbat shalom.

© Rabbi David Steinberg

August 2020/ Elul 5780

SOME THINGS ARE PUZZLING -- SOME THINGS NOT

Thoughts on Chukkat  5780/2020

(Dvar Torah given Friday 6/26/20)

Our Torah Portion this week, Parashat Chukkat, begins with the description of a strange sacrificial ritual involving פָרָ֨ה אֲדֻמָּ֜ה תְּמִימָ֗ה אֲשֶׁ֤ר אֵֽין־בָּהּ֙ מ֔וּם אֲשֶׁ֛ר לֹא־עָלָ֥ה עָלֶ֖יהָ עֹֽל / “Parah adamah temimah asher eyn bah mum, asher lo alah aleyha  ol”/ “a red cow without blemish, in which there is no defect and on which no yoke has been laid” (Num. 19:2).  The ashes of said cow, after being mixed with other special ingredients, would be sprinkled on a person who had become ritually impure as a result of being in proximity with a corpse.

This treatment would serve to return a person back to a state of ritual purity so that they could be permitted to enter the holy precincts of the Tabernacle or Temple and so that they could be permitted to partake of sacrificial offerings.  

You may recall that this passage is also read, as an additional maftir reading on a second Torah scroll, on “Shabbat Parah” --- the special Sabbath that arrives each year about three weeks before Passover.  Its liturgical usage in that context reminds us to start getting ourselves and our houses ready for Passover.

For me this year, the passage has special resonance because that maftir reading of Numbers chapter 19, the law of the Red Heifer, was the last Torah passage we read in an in-person Shabbat morning service in our Temple Israel sanctuary before we suspended services on account of the Covid-19 pandemic. 

How poignant it is now, when that reading comes around in the annual cycle of weekly Torah portions, to think about all of the precautions we are now taking – all the masks, the social distancing, the intensified sanitizing…  We’re doing this to protect ourselves from the contamination of Covid-19.  Our ancestors were trying to protect themselves from what they saw as the ritual impurity associated with coming in contact with death.  As it says in Parashat Chukkat ---

זֹ֚את הַתּוֹרָ֔ה אָדָ֖ם כִּֽי־יָמ֣וּת בְּאֹ֑הֶל כָּל־הַבָּ֤א אֶל־הָאֹ֙הֶל֙ וְכָל־אֲשֶׁ֣ר בָּאֹ֔הֶל יִטְמָ֖א שִׁבְעַ֥ת יָמִֽים׃

וְכֹל֙ כְּלִ֣י פָת֔וּחַ אֲשֶׁ֛ר אֵין־צָמִ֥יד פָּתִ֖יל עָלָ֑יו טָמֵ֖א הֽוּא׃

וְכֹ֨ל אֲשֶׁר־יִגַּ֜ע עַל־פְּנֵ֣י הַשָּׂדֶ֗ה בַּֽחֲלַל־חֶ֙רֶב֙ א֣וֹ בְמֵ֔ת אֽוֹ־בְעֶ֥צֶם אָדָ֖ם א֣וֹ בְקָ֑בֶר יִטְמָ֖א שִׁבְעַ֥ת יָמִֽים׃

This is the ritual: When a person dies in a tent, whoever enters the tent and whoever is in the tent shall be impure seven days; and every open vessel, with no lid fastened down, shall be impure.  And anyone who touches, in an open field, one slain by the sword, a corpse, a human bone, or a grave shall be impure seven days. (Num. 19: 14-16)

We have sound, easily understandable reasons for our contemporary precautions against the coronavirus.

As the Minnesota Department of Health reminds us:

·         People can spread the COVID-19 disease to each other.

·         The disease is thought to spread by nose and mouth droplets when someone who is infected coughs, sneezes or exhales.

·         The droplets can land in the mouths or noses of people nearby. It may be possible for people to breathe the droplets into their lungs. It is important to stay 6 feet away from other people in public. At home, someone who is sick should stay alone, in one room, as much as possible.

·         Droplets can land on surfaces and objects that other people then touch. It is important to wash your hands before you touch your mouth, nose, face or eyes. Clean surfaces that are touched often. Clean surfaces often if someone in the house is sick.

·         Infected people may be able to spread the disease before they have symptoms or feel sick.[1]

And further, they remind us that

·        Wear[ing] a cloth mask over your nose and mouth in grocery stores and all other public places where it is hard to stay 6 feet away from others.[…] can help to stop your germs from infecting others. This is extra important [since] people without symptoms can spread the virus that causes COVID-19 disease.[2]

None of this is puzzling if we “follow the science.”

By contrast, Jewish commentators over the centuries have been puzzled as to why sprinkling red cow ashes mixed with spring water would take away ritual impurity. They also were puzzled about how it could be that the same mixture that made the impure person pure simultaneously made the pure person who had administered the procedure impure.

No less a personage than King Solomon, praised for his wisdom, is described in a classic midrash as being stumped.  As we learn from Midrash Tanchuma:

Solomon said, “About all these things I have knowledge; but in the case of the parashah on the red heifer, I have investigated it, inquired into it, and examined it. Still (at the end of the verse in Eccl. 7:23), ‘I thought I could fathom it, but it eludes me.’” [3]

But that’s the whole point – say the sages of the Talmud and later commentators like Rashi:

The ritual of the Parah Adamah/Red Heifer is introduced in our parasha as “chukat hatorah” --- “the chukah of the Torah.” The term “chukah” (חקה)  (or its variant “chok”) is generally described in Jewish thought as referring to a law that has no obvious rational meaning.  As the classic commentary asserts --- God simply declares “I have decreed it, and you are not permitted to question it.” (Rashi on Num. 19:2)

For those of us of a liberal religious bent, we certainly do question any claims of Biblical inerrancy.  Our sacred texts were written by people.  And even the religious traditionalists acknowledge that even if it is God’s word, it’s still transmitted through imperfect human language by imperfect humans.  So, things get lost in translation --- or, to put it another way – some things just aren’t even capable of being expressed in human language.

This Torah portion --- the law of the Parah Adamah/ The Red Heifer – then invites us to sit with a basic existential question:

In the face of death, in the face of mysteries that are beyond our comprehension, what do we believe?

Do we believe that there is no meaning in life so that there is ultimately nothing to understand?

Or do we believe that there is infinite meaning in life  -- so that ultimately we should cultivate a stance of religious awe, rather than a stance of cynical nihilism.

The ancient Greek philosopher Socrates is famously credited with declaring
“I know nothing but the fact of my own ignorance.”

Judaism seems to agree with that to a certain extent, at least with subjects like the law of the Red Heifer.

But what do we know?

Some wise words were penned on this subject by the early 20th-century British Jewish communal leader Lily Montague and I’ll conclude these parashah thoughts with her words:

I find by experience, not by reasoning,

but by my own discovery that God is near me,

and I can be near God at all times.

I cannot explain it, but I am as sure of my experience

As I am of the fact that I live and love.

I cannot explain how I have come to lie and love,

But I know I do.

In the same way, I know I am in contact with God.[4]

Shabbat shalom.

(c) Rabbi David Steinberg (June 2020/ Tammuz 5780)

[1] https://www.health.state.mn.us/diseases/coronavirus/basics.html

[2] https://www.health.state.mn.us/diseases/coronavirus/prevention.html

[3] https://www.sefaria.org/Midrash_Tanchuma%2C_Chukat.6.1?lang=bi&with=all&lang2=en

[4] Quoted in Mishkan T’Filah: A Reform Siddur (Shabbat edition), p. 91.

THOUGHTS ON KORACH

(Num. 16:1 – 18:29)

Dvar Torah delivered on Friday evening 6/19/20

This week’s Torah portion is Parashat
Korach.  It tells the story of a major
rebellion against the authority of Moses that takes place within the Israelite
camp during the second year after the Exodus from Egypt.

Korach’s rebellion is really two
stories in one. Literary critics theorize that there were two separate stories
passed down through the ages. One story was a story of Moses’s and Aaron’s
cousin Korach and his Levite followers complaining that they should get to be
Kohanim/Priests like Aaron and his family.

A second story is about Datan and Aviram,
from the tribe of Reuben leading a revolt on behalf of a varied constellation
of Israelites who are entirely fed up with Moses’s leadership and want to
return to Egypt. 

Later editors synthesized the two
stories into a single narrative.  In the
synthesized narrative, Korach is portrayed as the leader of both camps.

Or, from a more traditionalist
viewpoint, this is all one story about one rebellion encompassing varying
subgroups, each with their own grievances.

However we approach the genesis of the
tale, the standard, mainstream, traditional rabbinic line on what to make of
this story is that it is a paradigm for the concept of makhloket shelo
beshem shamayim. --- a dispute that is not for the sake of Heaven. 

As it says in Pirke Avot in the Mishna:  "Any dispute which is for the sake of
Heaven will ultimately be of enduring value, and one which is not for the sake
of Heaven will not be of enduring value. What is a dispute for the sake of
Heaven? This is a debate between Hillel and Shammai. What is a dispute not for
the sake of Heaven? This is the dispute of Korach and his assembly." 
(Pirke Avot 5:20)

What did the rabbinic era sages have
against Korach?  They regarded him as a power-hungry
demagogue.  They thought he was simply
lusting after power and was not being honest when he complained to Moses:

רַב־לָכֶם֒ כִּ֤י
כָל־הָֽעֵדָה֙ כֻּלָּ֣ם קְדֹשִׁ֔ים וּבְתוֹכָ֖ם יְהוָ֑ה וּמַדּ֥וּעַ
תִּֽתְנַשְּׂא֖וּ עַל־קְהַ֥ל יְהוָֽה׃

“You have gone
too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and Adonai is in their
midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above Adonai’s congregation?” (Num. 16:3)

As for the masses of people following
the ringleaders in rebellion against Moses and Aaron, their complaint ---
expressed by the words of Datan and Aviram -- 
is even more pointed:

הַמְעַ֗ט כִּ֤י
הֶֽעֱלִיתָ֙נוּ֙ מֵאֶ֨רֶץ זָבַ֤ת חָלָב֙ וּדְבַ֔שׁ לַהֲמִיתֵ֖נוּ בַּמִּדְבָּ֑ר
כִּֽי־תִשְׂתָּרֵ֥ר עָלֵ֖ינוּ גַּם־הִשְׂתָּרֵֽר׃

“Is it not enough
that you brought us from a land flowing with milk and honey to have us die in
the wilderness, that you would also lord it over us?” (Num. 16-13)

Yes, I know it seems crazy that they
would refer to EGYPT as a “land of milk and honey” – but for them it seemed
like Moses and Aaron’s leadership was only going to result in death and more
death.  Egypt was looking better by the
day.

You can read the story for yourself,
but the denouement is that those who dare to question the ruling authorities
wind up either consumed by fire or swallowed up into the bowels of the earth.

That’ll teach ‘em.

One wonders how it all came to this.

Certainly, the people have been a
bunch of complainers and kvetchers from the very start --- both before and
after the departure from Egypt.

However, this time around they’ve
reached the end of their patience.  In
last week’s Torah portion, Parashat Shelakh Lekha, after the pessimistic report
of the spies had angered God, God had decreed that the entire generation who
had left Egypt (or at least everyone age 20 and over)  would die out in the wilderness, and only a
subsequent generation would get to complete the journey to Eretz Yisrael. 

And then, after that, in a chilling
incident that we tend to gloss over when we read Parashat Shelakh Lekha each
year, an Israelite man is stoned to death for the crime of gathering sticks on
the Sabbath.  As we read in Numbers
15:32-36.

“Once, when the Israelites were in the wilderness, they came upon a man
gathering wood on the sabbath day. Those who found him as he was gathering wood
brought him before Moses, Aaron, and the whole community. He was placed in
custody, for it had not been specified what should be done to him. Then Adonai said
to Moses, ‘The man shall be put to death: the whole community shall pelt him
with stones outside the camp.’ So the whole community took him outside the camp
and stoned him to death—as Adonai had commanded Moses.”

Rabbi Elyse Frishman in an essay in the volume “The Women’s Torah
Commentary” observes:

“The punishment of stoning the wood gatherer is the first and only incident
of capital punishment actually applied in the Torah.  The episode must have been devastating for
the people.” [1]

The poor wood gatherer remains nameless in the Torah.  But a later midrash says that the wood gatherer
who was stoned to death was Tzelophchad, whose daughters would later be moved
to activism against the inequities of the inheritance system.[2] 

Sure, the rules were set out for all to hear, but the killing of the wood
gatherer always strikes me as more of a lynching than any preservation of law
and order.

So maybe those who joined Korach in a struggle against the status quo were
infuriated by the lynching of the wood gatherer.  Just as today, multitudes of Americans are
rising up against the status quo in fury over the police killings that amount
to lynchings in our own day.

The wood gatherer is unnamed in the Torah – but as for those of our day –
we can and should say their names.  Those
names include, among others:

Eric Garner 

Ezell Ford

Michelle Cusseaux

Tanisha Anderson

Tamir Rice

Natasha McKenna

Walter Scott

Bettie Jones

Philando Castile

Botham Jean

Atatiana Jefferson 

Eric Reason 

Dominique Clayton 

Breonna Taylor 

George Floyd 

Rayshard Brooks.

No doubt, Parashat Korach presents us with a complicated and ambiguous mix
of ambivalent messages when it comes to questions of authority, hierarchy and
justice. 

But this time around I’m rooting for the rebels.

Shabbat shalom.

© Rabbi David Steinberg

June 2020/ Sivan 5780

[1] Rabbi Elyse Frishman, “Korach: Authority, Status, Power” in The Women’s
Torah Commentary: New Insights from Women Rabbis on the 54 Weekly Torah
Portions, Rabbi Elyse Goldstein, editor (Jewish Lights Publishing, 2000),
pp. 286-87.

[2] Numbers 27: 1-11; T.B Shabbat 96b.

RABBI DAVID'S JUNE 2020 BULLETIN ARTICLE

Throughout the month of June this year we find ourselves in the Book of Numbers in our lectionary
cycle of weekly Torah readings.  This fourth book of the Torah, called “Sefer Bemidbar” in Hebrew, is probably
my favorite of the five books.  It contains beautiful prayers like the priestly blessing:

“May the Eternal bless you and protect you!
May the Eternal deal kindly and graciously with you!
May the Eternal bestow divine favor upon you and grant you peace!”

(Num. 6: 24-26)

And it includes teachings about the importance of learning from everyone, as when Moses berates
Joshua for wanting to jail the young upstarts Eldad and Medad for unauthorized prophesying:

“And Joshua son of Nun, Moses' attendant from his youth, spoke up and said, ‘My lord Moses,
restrain them!’ But Moses said to him, "Are you wrought up on my account? Would that all the Eternal's people were prophets, that the Eternal put the divine spirit upon them!"

 (Num. 11:28-29)

And it contains the list of way stations through the forty-year wilderness journey through
Sinai (Num. 33: 1-49), a passage that has the feel of an incantation when chanted in Hebrew or read in English.  Rashi and other commentators teach that the long list of starting and stopping points in Numbers 33 is there to remind us of God’s kindness and providence at each stage of our life journeys – a teaching that is very much near the heart of my own Jewish spirituality.

But perhaps the profundity of the Book of Numbers can be most readily found in its very
title.  Not the English title, but the Hebrew title – “Bemidbar” [במדבר]    which means “In the wilderness”  (or, more accurately, “In the wilderness of…”, the start of the noun phrase “Bemidbar Sinai”/ “In the wilderness
of Sinai.”

The word “midbar”/מדבר (“wilderness”) is derived from the Hebrew root letters dalet-bet-resh/ דבר, a Hebrew root whose primary meaning is “speak.” (For example, “Ani medaber ivrit” [for a male] or “Ani medaberet ivrit” [for a female] is the way you say “I speak Hebrew” in Hebrew, and the word “dibbur” [דיבור] means “speech” or “utterance.”)    

I visited the Sinai Peninsula back in December 1981, during my first trip to Israel when I was a college junior.  I can well imagine how being in that midbar - that wilderness - could become connected in our ancestors’ understanding with the ultimate dibbur – the ultimate “speaking” --  that our tradition calls “Torah.”

This year, the concept of midbar/wilderness has an added, metaphorical significance for
all of us.  We are still in the midst of a deadly pandemic – and our efforts to deal with it – personally, locally,
nationally and globally – have left us feeling unmoored and disoriented, as if we too were wandering in a wilderness. Our tradition teaches that the Shechinah – God’s immanent presence – did not desert us during that temporary Sinai sojourn.  We are not being deserted now either – and we are not deserting one another. 
Our faith reminds us that we remain connected though our methods for connecting have to be adjusted for the time being. 

Please let us all continue to do our part by staying safe as we enter the summer season.   And thank you to everyone who has been reaching out to fellow congregants, and other neighbors and friends during this
challenging time.    

L’shalom,

Rabbi David Steinberg

rabbidavid@jewishduluth.org

RABBI DAVID'S MAY 2020 TEMPLE ISRAEL BULLETIN ARTICLE

[Note: Since this article was published in our Bulletin at the beginning of May, the continued pandemic has led us to continue keeping our building closed. Zoom Shabbat services are now taking place, but we decided to postpone the Confirmation service until we are doing in-person services again. In the meantime, please enjoy this article that talks about the connection between Shavuot and Confirmation. Chag Shavuot Same’ach — DS 5/28/20]

Shavuot (along with Passover and Sukkot) is one of the Shalosh Regalim/ the "Three Pilgrimage Festivals" of the Jewish religion.   The Torah speaks of it as an agricultural festival ("Chag Habikkurim"/"Festival of First Fruits"), but rabbinic tradition early on identified it with “Zeman Matan Torateynu” / “The Time of the giving of our Torah.” 

 A classic midrash imagines God being reluctant to present this gift unless it would be appreciated by its recipients:

 At Sinai, when the Jewish people were ready to receive the Torah, God said to them, “What? Am I supposed to give you the Torah without any security? Bring some good guarantors that you will keep it properly, and I will give it to you.” They said: “Our ancestors will be our guarantors.” God said: “They themselves need a guarantor!” […] They said: “Our prophets will be our guarantors.” God said: I have complaints against them, too […]” They said: “Then our children will be our guarantors.” God said: “Now, those are good guarantors!” (Shir Hashirim Rabbah 4:1) 

 Since its institution by Reform Judaism in the 19th century, Confirmation has been an occasion for young men and women to acknowledge publicly that they are in fact prepared to be such guarantors. 

 At the time that I am writing this article (April 23rd), our current moratorium on in-person gatherings at Temple Israel is in place until May 14th and our Shavuot/Confirmation service, at which Sam B. and David W. are scheduled to be confirmed, is scheduled to take place during the Friday night service on May 29th.  

 However, it seems entirely possible that our closure might be extended beyond May 14th, and conceivably beyond May 29th.  It is difficult to know for sure at this moment. So please stay tuned for further announcements after the Temple Board next meets on May 14th about plans beyond that date.  If our closure continues beyond May 29th then the current plan is that Confirmation would be rescheduled to coincide with our next in-person Friday night service.  That would make that first time back in the sanctuary that much more special and festive! 

As for Shavuot (which actually begins at sundown on Thursday, May 28th), I’m currently consulting with my colleagues in the Minnesota Rabbinical Association about the possibility of scheduling a virtual statewide “Tikkun Leyl Shavuot” program. This would be a late-night study session on Thursday, May 28th to take place over Zoom, with various presenters from several Minnesota congregations leading mini-lessons on a variety of Jewish topics. If we do end up scheduling this, further information will be forthcoming.  [Note: Since this article was published my plans have changed. Instead of the MRA program, I will be participating in a Tikkun Leyl Shavuot program of the Reconstructionist Movement. Details can be found here: https://www.reconstructingjudaism.org/news/shavuot-coming-together-across-globe-learn-through-night-our-homes ] 

(And here is a link to an article that gives further information about the custom of “Tikkun Leyl Shavuot”:  https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/tikkun-leil-shavuot/ ) 

 In the meantime, may we all stay safe and healthy during these stressful times. Whether we end up being together in person by the end of May, or whether we are continuing to maintain physical distancing at that point, may we all have a happy Shavuot --- and we look forward to being able to say mazal tov to our confirmands soon.  

 Chag Same’ach, 

Rabbi David Steinberg 

<rabbidavid@jewishduluth.org>