Friday, April 21, 2017

Remembrance, Resistance and Resolve - Remarks for the Temple Beth-ElShabbat Service for Holocaust Remembrance on April 21, 2017

     Of all years, this year is an important time to offer a special commemoration of the Holocaust.   Eyewitnesses are few and far between now.  Jewish communities that gather for Yom Hazikaron Lashoah V’laG’vurah,  A Day of Remembrance for the Holocaust and Heroism, keep memories alive of  Jews and members of other groups murdered by the Nazis.   However, more and more, stories of heroism are being highlighted as examples of what the human spirit is capable of accomplishing, even against insurmountable odds.
    PBS presented such a tale in its program on Wednesday night on NOVA – Holocaust Escape Tunnel.    The portrayal of vibrant Jewish life in the town of Vilnius, or Vilna, with its 76,000 Jews, could have concluded with the death of most of those Jews in actions by the SS in Ponar Forest outside Vilnius.  The program, however, focused, first, on the search for remnants of the Great Synagogue of Vilna, which stood for just over 300 years until its destruction by the Nazis.  The discovery of the mikveh, the ritual bath, that was in the basement of the synagogue was heartwarming as a reflection of the commitment to Judaism that pervaded that community.     
        And then, the program’s focus shifted to the stories told by survivors of a purported escape from Ponar Forest after working against their will for the Nazis.  They were forced by the Nazis to dig up the bodies of Jews and other community members who had been murdered and buried in large pits outside Vilna.  And then, they were ordered to burn the bodies.   The Ponar workers, 86 of them, attended to their horrendous task, but eventually engaged in another project in secret.  Using only spoons, they spent 76 days digging a tunnel that began at the center of their work to a spot 100 feet away inside the forest that might offer these men a chance to escape.     
     On April 15, 1944, the last night of Passover, the workers determined that they needed to make their move.  They know that, after completing their forced labor, they would be the last victims of the Nazis in Ponar Forest.  Of the 86 who made their way through the escape tunnel, 11 survived. 
    Using modern technology, a group of experts were able to conduct surveys that looked into the ground and identified the continuing existence of the escape tunnel, still remaining after all these years.  The program on PBS concluded with interviews with family members of the survivors, who were shocked and gratified that the story they had heard for so long had been corroborated by science.    While the episode ended sadly for some, there was a sense of triumph for those who escaped through the tunnel and survived the war and made sure to tell their incredible story.   
    Last month, during the Central Conference of American Rabbis convention in Atlanta, Holocaust scholar and author Deborah Lipstadt spoke to us.  She has gained a great deal of attention because of the excellent film “Denial,” which recounted her victory in the libel case brought against her by Holocaust denier David Irving. 
      She spoke to us about the persistence of anti-Semitism both on the left and the right, and the extreme overuse of analogies to the Holocaust that all too frequently use terms like “Nazi” and “he/she is just like Hitler.”   She asserted that those comparisons take away from what the Holocaust was: the systematic extermination of Jews, primarly, along with the murder of other people as well.    Dr. Lipstadt declared that something can be terrible, such as the tragedies happening in our world today, without being a Holocaust.   Her words of caution were well-spoken.  
    However, she also said that Jews should not be Jewish only because of anti-Semitism.   “Don’t turn Jews into an object,” she explained. “Make Jews the subject – talk about what Jews do, not what others do to Jews.”  
     Around the world, communities will be commemorating Holocaust Remembrance Day,  Yom Hashoah,, which begins at sundown this Sunday night, April 23, and concludes on Monday evening.  Some will be holding commemorations on Sunday afternoon to facilitate better participation.
      As we host the Jewish Food and Folk Festival in the hours before Yom Hashoah begins, may it be our signal to the community and to our immediate world that we are a subject, not an object; that we are a community that sustains what it means to continue to live Jewish values, that we will practice teachings that direct us to decry stereotyping, prejudice and hatred, to show warmth and heartfelt hospitality to those who come into our presence, and to love our neighbors as ourselves. 
 Beyond music, dance, pastrami sandwiches, knishes, bobka and rugelach, we have so much to offer to each other, to our community and to the world.   And in sustaining not only our culture but the principles of Judaism as well, we will, with our small but mighty numbers, remind the world of the significance of remembrance, resistance and resolve.  And to everyone in and around Las Cruces, I would say: may we always join together to live out our best values and noblest aspirations in a context of understanding and peace.

A Prayer for Purpose and Caring - Invocation - Temple Beth-El Las Cruces Board Meeting - April 20, 2017

Eternal God,
You challenge us to remember why we are here.
We do have our own plans, views, desires, hopes, and commitments.
Some of them are a function of the life we have chosen.
Others may, in some way, touch upon what we are called to do by our ancient heritage.
It is our duty to find quiet moments on our own and to join a community in prayer to gain an appreciation for the world, to remember our loved ones who have died, and to rededicate ourselves to the values of learning, freedom, rest, kindness and peace.
It is our responsibility to reach out to people in need in a way that transcends boundaries and differences.    Do not oppress the strangers among you, You have said, and treat them as if they were citizens. Extend your hand to the poor among you, You have said. 
If we accept these teachings that have been handed down to us, then our association with each other in this place could lead to reaching for some of those goals and fulfilling your teachings about how we can act in a world that needs our help. 
Empower us to give hope to one another, to stop hatred and bullying in its tracks, and to seek ways to join with others in the community to accomplish these important tasks.
And when we have guests coming into our midst, remind us how we felt when we were strangers and newcomers, so that we will treat recent arrivals with a sense of embrace that will exude care and warmth.

Always be with us as we put one foot in front of the other in our journey towards a future that we can, together, fill with goodness and promise. 

Friday, April 14, 2017

Being Free, Staying Free, and the role of restraint - D'var Torah - Shabbat During Pesach - April 14, 2017

There have been some unnerving comments around the country this week.  We have all, I am sure, heard about the comparison of Bashar al-Assad to Adolf Hitler for which the administration official in question who made the comment profusely apologized.
     The other time that the Nazi leader was named was in a comment by a North Carolina State representative on his campaign Facebook page.  During a discussion about national law superseding state law, this state legislator wrote, “And if Hitler had won, should the world just get over it?  Lincoln was the same sort of tyrant, and personally responsible for the deaths of over 800,000 Americans in a war that was unnecessary and unconstitutional.”
   I will leave further discussion about the specifics of those charges to historical experts inside and outside this space. 
     We know that there were economic aspects to the Civil War, and issues of federal power over the states.  There were, however, central values in the war very much related to freedom.   Was there freedom to enslave a human being and call him or her “property?”   Was there a reason to engage in a war against those states with the goal that slaves would ultimately be considered “free” themselves?  
       The freedom to wield power over another human being is a basic question for most any arena of life.  Many of us realize that it is best to see “power” in terms of “authority” and “responsibility.”  
      Being a leader sometimes includes the ability to change rules and make judgments, at times on a personal whim, in a way that greatly affects the freedom of those who live by those rules.   
     Or…a leader can choose to consult with trusted advisors and with people being served to discover what policies to continue and where change might be wise and welcome.
      In the story of the Exodus, the Egyptian Pharaoh saw himself as unfettered in his decision-making role.  He was Pharaoh. He could do anything.  And when it came to the Israelite people, so he did, because he could.  
   And the people, whose ancestor Joseph had sustained Egypt in a famine, didn’t matter to anyone anymore, least of all, to a new Pharaoh.   
    Pharaoh used his nearly limitless power to enslave the Israelites and to break their spirit so that they would not seek to rise up against him in order to gain their own freedom.
    But the freedom to do anything has its consequences.   In this case, Pharaoh came upon a force he didn’t consider - the power of a God he did not know who had a persistent spokesman in Moses.
     I imagine that some people might say that it wasn’t a “fair fight.” When it comes to liberating a people from oppression, though, we tend to see “fair” in a different light.  
    So God’s limitless power defeated Pharaoh’s boundless tyranny.   God was free to do what God wanted to bring the Israelites to freedom, but it only happened with Pharoah’s eventual capitulation.   
     And then, after they arrived at Mount Sinai, while waiting for Moses to return to them,  the Israelites worshipped the Golden Calf.  
     At that moment, God had a different idea about using divine power.   
       In a section prior to the Torah reading for tonight is this passage in Exodus Chapter 32:  The Eternal further said to Moses, “I see that this is a stiffnecked people. Now, let Me be, that My anger may blaze forth against them and that I may destroy them, and make of you a great nation.” But Moses implored the Eternal God, saying, “Let not Your anger, O Eternal, blaze forth against Your people, whom You delivered from the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand. Let not the Egyptians say, ‘It was with evil intent that God delivered them, only to kill them off in the mountains and annihilate them from the face of the earth.’ Turn from Your blazing anger, and renounce the plan to punish Your people. Remember Your servants, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, how You swore to them: I will make your offspring as numerous as the stars of heaven, and I will give to your offspring this whole land of which I spoke, to possess forever.” And the Eternal One renounced the punishment intended for the people.”
     And so we come to the Torah reading for the Shabbat during Pesach, which follows Moses up the mountain, once again, to receive a second set of the tablets of the 10 commandments. 
      I have always wondered why this portion is read on the Shabbat during Pesach, other than its brief mention of the ancient observance of Passover. 
     I finally think I understand the reason.  
     I believe it’s about restraint.   
    We might think that the most important thing Moses did was to lead the Israelites out of Egypt.   I would suggest that his confrontation with God to step back from divine anger was just as important. 
    Without Moses’ pleading, there would have been no Israelite people, at least according to the Torah. 
    Whether we accept this passage as literally true or not, there is an important lesson to learn about holding back even when we have great power in a position we may hold. 
     Moses was reminding God that even God can’t do everything God wants to do, and that it’s important to take time to think and ponder and consider before taking serious action.   
    His approach to God yielded the section that I will read from the Torah tonight, which recounts God’s divine attributes which are all about limits and restraint.         
    Listen to the text: “The Eternal! the Eternal! a God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin; yet God does not remit all punishment, but visits the iniquity of parents upon children and children’s children, only to the third and fourth generations.”
    Every one of those qualities is about showing abundant love and kindness when they are warranted and deserved.  AND…this passage teaches us how to enable the traits of compassion, grace, calm, commitment, and forgiveness to overcome any desire to unleash power to destroy and deconstruct, casting darkness where there once was light. 
    I believe that most people have learned that being free and staying free is about restraint.   Maybe we can’t do all we want to do, or have all we want to have, because there are factors that limit us at any given moment.   
     Showing restraint can empower us to broaden our own freedom through cultivating relationships that will raise our spirits, sustain our hope, and strengthen our personal integrity related to how we make decisions that affect us and other people.  
    A sense of freedom can emerge from limits that are intended to acknowledge everyone’s humanity and an encouragement for us to be productive partners in the communities we form.  
    God, as the Oneness that unites us all, reminds us every moment that we should use our freedom in a way that will infuse kindness, forgiveness and faithfulness into our world.

    On this Pesach, and at all times, so may we do.  

Thursday, April 6, 2017

Spring is a time to reflect on humility, humanity, the Earth - Las Cruces Bulletin column for April 7, 2017

     Spring is here!  Seeing some of the cacti in our yard come alive with beautiful blossoms brings a feeling of uplift, hope, and even momentary joy.
     Judaism and Christianity mark this time of nature’s reawakening with observances that relate to rebirth and freedom. Jews observe the holiday of Passover, which commemorates the Israelite journey from slavery to freedom. According to local clergy colleagues, Christians, when observing Easter, see the passage from slavery to liberation "in the death and resurrection of Jesus, and in the transition from sin and death to life abundant (now and eternally)."
       In Judaism, a 2000 year-old statement from the rabbis characterizes the essence of Passover: “In every generation, we should look upon ourselves as if WE went free from Egypt.”   Passover challenges each person to personally respond to the plight of anyone who faces oppression, persecution, and a lack of support from the greater community.   In the story of Passover, the Israelites decried the arrogance of the Pharaoh, who viewed himself as a divine figure.  Given his actions, it was apparent that the Pharaoh had relinquished any sense of human consideration, decency and empathy.
    The importance of these values was emphasized in one of the American Values/Religious Voices letters last month.  On March 6, Amir Hussain, Professor of Theological Studies at Loyola Marymount University, shared three religious texts that call on people to demonstrate a true concern for their fellow human beings.   He cited the passage from the book of Exodus (Chapter 23) which declared, “You shall not oppress a stranger. You know the feelings of the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”
     Professor Hussain explained that a passage from the Gospel of Matthew (Chapter 25) further strengthened that message: “…For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.”
      In addition, Professor Hussain shared a teaching from the Qur’an which expressed similar principles:  “Serve God and do not associate anything with God, and be good your parents, the near of kin, the orphans, the needy, the neighbor who is near and the neighbor who is farther away, the companion by your side, and the traveler….Surely God does not love the one who is proud, boastful” (Qur’an 4:36).”
    Several discussion groups that studied this letter were puzzled by the statement, “Serve God and do not associate anything with God.”    My initial interpretation was that, if we think of ourselves as serving God, we should not see ourselves as holier or better than anyone else.  I took this passage to members of the local Muslim community for further discussion.  One said that it means that we should be sure that our good deeds are performed for their own sake, and not for an anticipated reward of praise from others, position or pride.   Another community member commented that the final part of the Qur’an verse reminds people not to be overtly proud or boastful just because they are doing what they consider to be God’s work. We should perform acts of goodness for their own sake and for the benefit of others.
      As nature engages in its annual rebirth, may our own souls be reborn into an approach of personal humility, an appreciation of humanity and the earth itself, and a sense of how serving our community can bring hope and healing to the world.

Thursday, March 30, 2017

Love each one as yourself - Passover Article for El Paso Jewish Voice - April 2017

     It is hard to say when “Pesach season” begins.   We could say that it begins when local grocery stores begin to carry Kosher-for-Passover food products, or when we issue invitations to friends or family for a home seder.   We could consider the end of Purim to be the beginning of "Pesach season” because the next holiday is our annual celebration of the Israelites’ liberation from slavery. 
    This year, Pesach has taken on a special significance, due in no small part to the waves of bomb threats, vandalism, and violence against Jewish institutions and communal sites.  
     It isn’t that there is nothing good on which we can focus. Of course, there ALWAYS are good deeds, acts of kindness, and meaningful mitzvot being performed.   Still, the sting of hateful acts tends to linger and keep more than a few of us up at night. 
    On March 9, the Las Cruces Film Festival featured a screening of “School Ties,” the 1992 movie that told a fictional tale of David Greene, a quarterback at a Scranton, Pennsylvania high school whose Jewish identity was not a secret in his hometown.  He was recruited by a Massachusetts preparatory school for his senior year to lead the football team to victory, especially against its rival school.   David decided to keep his Jewishness secret at his new school, especially due to anti-Semitic comments he heard from his classmates.  Eventually, his identity was revealed and he was subjected to a barrage of harassment and hatred.  When a fellow student cheated on an exam and accused David of the honor code infraction, their classmates met to render a judgment against one student or the other. 
     Well-known actor Brendan Fraser, who portrayed David Greene in the film, appeared at the Las Cruces Film Festival and joined Rabbi Bery Shmukler and me on a panel to discuss the film and its take on anti-Semitism.   Mr. Fraser explained that he thought that the “judgment scene,” at which classmates had to determine who cheated, was the moment when everyone’s masks came off.   Some refused to see David’s humanity.  Others came around to accept David as a hard-working, all-around good person and student who lived a life of honor.    
     The message of Pesach is embedded in the view of the Egyptians that the Israelite slaves in their service were not human beings. They were strangers. They were different, and they were fit only for the harsh labor that had been forced upon them.   
     For me, this year, the words from Leviticus Chapter 19 reverberate in my soul: “When strangers reside with you in your land, you shall not wrong them. The strangers who reside with you shall be to you as your citizens; you shall love each one as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I the Eternal am your God.”
     May each of us find meaning in this story of liberation that will guide us to extend our helping hand to others, and to look into each other’s eyes and see a spark of the divine.  Happy Pesach! 

Saturday, March 25, 2017

Passage from Proverbs Gives insight to hate - Column for Las Cruces Sun-News - March 23, 2017

For 15 years, while I was serving Temple Beth Sholom in Topeka, Kansas, my wife Rhonda and I witnessed a small group of people foment hatred through the picketing of businesses, religious congregations, schools, the local university, musical and dramatic performances, government offices and ,eventually, military funerals. The Westboro Baptist Church expressed hatred against many groups of people over those years, and does so still. One of their signs I remember all too well said, “God’s hate is great!” It was a statement that elicited within me a profoundly negative resonance.

Many people throughout the Topeka community worked hard to make alternative declarations about hate, about greatness, and, of course, about God. At that time, in my own search for words that presented a different perspective than that four-word picket sign, I looked to this passage from the Book of Proverbs (Chapter 6). It takes a very different approach to what one can hate (and not whom):

“Six things the Eternal One hates, seven are an abomination. Haughty eyes (excessive pride), a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, A mind that hatches evil plots, feet quick to run to do evil, A false witness testifying lies, and one who sows discord among brothers and sisters.”

I thought of that passage when I attended the screening, at the Las Cruces International Film Festival, of the 1992 film, “School Ties.” Brendan Fraser, who starred in the movie, spoke to those assembled about one pivotal scene that dealt with prejudice and morality. Fraser’s character, David Greene, was a high school quarterback (who happened to be Jewish) who, in the mid-1950s, was recruited in his senior year from Scranton, Pennsylvania, to lead a Massachusetts college preparatory school’s football team to victory. Greene did not reveal his identity to his classmates, especially after hearing anti-Semitic comments soon after his arrival. He easily made friends by “fitting in.” Once his identity became known, he was the victim of hatred and harassment from his peers.

Toward the end of the film, a student who cheated on an exam (an act witnessed by Greene) publicly accused Greene of being the one who cheated, thereby violating the school’s honor code. Greene immediately revealed that he saw his accuser breaking the rules. A committee of students privately met to judge which student was guilty. Fraser explained that, during that class meeting, everyone’s masks came off. The students’ views were exposed. Some assumed that Greene was guilty merely because of his background. Others believed that Greene’s personal sense of honor was proof of his innocence.

We are living at a time when, more than in recent decades, people’s masks no longer conceal unfortunate expressions of hatred and prejudice against too many different groups of people.

Whether we are part of a faith community or not, the words from Proverbs still speak to us in the here and now. They apply the concept of hatred to the process of ridding ourselves of specific behaviors. They can lead us to dedicate ourselves to the values of humility, truth, peaceful and cooperative engagement, seeing the goodness in everyone, and finding ways to resolve conflict. They call on us to run to do good, and to find more partners to join us as we move forward.

It is up to each one of us to decide in which direction our feet, our minds and our hearts will go.

Friday, March 24, 2017

"If I can help somebody as I pass along" - Reflections on the CCARConvention in Atlanta (March 19-23, 2017) - D'var Torah forVayakheil/P'kuday - March 24, 2017

        This has been a difficult week.   Some news commentators would likely apply that thought to what happened in the House of Representatives today. 
    Others might cite the Westminster attack, which is part of an unfortunately persistent wave of hatred and intolerance borne out in violent actions and murder.
    Many Jews around the world might be thinking of the young Jewish man in Israel who is now the main suspect identified as the perpetrator of bomb threats against Jewish community centers in the United States and two locations in Australia and New Zealand.   We are still not certain whether we will ever be able to explain his actions, even with reports that a medical condition may have affected his judgment, making him somehow see his actions as appropriate.  This particular situation leaves us asking more questions, even though we may have a partial answer. 
     In both of those cases of threat and tragedy, the perpetrator wanted to tear down a house, so to speak, or a society.   There may have been a desire to replace the house with something else.  Or the motive may have been simply to derive a sense of twisted satisfaction by exerting personal abilities and power to sow chaos, disruption, or even loss of life.    
    During the annual convention of the Central Conference of American Rabbis in Atlanta which I attended over the last several days,  my colleagues and I saw other examples of attempts to create chaos and act upon prejudice.   
The site of the Pencil Factory
     Some of us participated in a tour of Civil rights sites in Atlanta on Sunday morning. Our first stop was at an apartment and shop complex called the Pencil Factory.   I immediately knew where we were.  Leo Frank had moved to Atlanta from New York in 1908 to take over a pencil factory at that location.  In 1913, one of his employees, 13 year old Mary Phagan, came from Marietta to pick up her paycheck and never returned home.  As best as we can tell, after the revelations provided in the 1980s by Leo Frank's office helper Alonzo Mann, custodian Jim Conley had murdered Mary Phagan. Mann, who saw Conley carrying Phagan's body, was told by Conley that, if he told anyone, he would be murdered, too.   The prosecutor in the case didn't believe that Conley, a black man, could have perpetrated the crime.  The guilt was, instead, pinned on Frank, an easy target because of his Jewish identity.  
     Frank was convicted of the murder and sentenced to death, a judgment commuted by Governor Jim Slaton in 2015.  Soon after that, Leo Frank was taken from a prison hospital by a group called "The Knights of Mary Phagan" and lynched.  The Knights actually distributed post cards that bore photos from the lynching at that time.     From those events emerged the Anti-Defamation League and, sadly, an emboldened and renewed Ku Klux Klan.    So, standing at the Pencil Factory was simply chilling, and a reminder of how stereotypes and hatred can tear down decency in our midst. 
The original Ebenezer Baptist Church
    We then visited the graves of the Rev. Dr.  Martin Luther King, Jr. And Coretta Scott King.  We sat in the pews of the original Ebenezer Baptist Church, where Martin Luther King, Jr.'s father had served as pastor and where King himself sang in the children's choir.   We attended the service at the current Ebenezer Baptist Church. Last Sunday morning, 1500 people gathered to celebrate the 131st anniversary of the church.   The service featured music led by different generations of singers and instrumentalists, dancers, a bell choir, and an inspiring sermon delivered by the Rev. Traci Blackmon from St. Louis.    While the death of The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was the result of yet another person - or a group of people - who wanted to sow chaos in society, the church itself, both old and new, signified  how a holy space can yield the creation of sacred partnership from one generation to the next. 
     Our final stop on the tour was at the NAMES Project/AIDS memorial quilt headquarters.   What we heard from the project's president and CEO, Julie Rhoad, was that this organization began as a way to draw people's attention to the challenge of AIDS through reflection and remembrance.   That left an impression on me.   They hoped to make great strides in medical research that would ultimately lead to a cure for AIDS.  Their means to reach that end became the creation and public displays of quilt pieces sent to them memorializing individuals who died of AIDS and donations that came in from all around the world.   I admire their continuing efforts and their peaceful approach that has woven together so many relatives and friends of persons with AIDS who died  into a human tapestry of hope. 
Julie Rhoad, Director and CEO of the NAMES PROJECT
AIDS Memorial Quilt, at its Atlanta headquarters
     And that brings us to the Torah reading for the week.   Moses called upon selected artisans, led by Bezalel and Oholiab, to come forward to fashion the Tabernacle, the Israelite house of worship, and its furnishings.   The people were asked to donate materials that could be used in the creation of the Israelites' sacred space. 
     So, they brought their contributions....and then more, and even more...until what they were donating became overwhelming.   Bezalel and Oholiab and their colleagues had accumulated enough raw materials to move forward with their work. They told Moses to announce to the people to stop!   The Torah says that the people "had brought enough for the work to be done, and even more."   
     Here was a group of people, in the wilderness, having just escaped slavery, that was able to be exceedingly generous.    After some of their fellow Israelites had previously given their jewelry to create the golden calf, a sign of communal breakdown and chaos, the people had learned from the past and reached a new level.  They understood unity.  They understood the honor of giving to something sacred.  They understood how important it would be, in their present and their future, to build up, whether it was raising their own spirits or raising a structure where they could go to feel the presence of God with them.    
Mary Gurley sings "If I Can Help Somebody" at the morning
service of the Central Conference of American Rabbis
convention in Atlanta, Georgia on March 20, 2017. 
     One moment that I haven't mentioned from the convention exemplified how history can create a holy foundation upon which we can build in the here and now and in the future.   Mary Gurley, who is now 88 years old, sang in the children's choir at the Ebenezer Baptist Church with Martin Luther King, Jr.   During the funeral of the civil rights leader, she was called upon to sing a song called "If I Can Help Somebody."   Just before the Kaddish during our convention service this past Monday morning, the service leader spoke about Mary Gurley.  Then, to the surprise of some of us, she herself walked up to the stage in the hotel ballroom, took her place at the microphone, and sang these words: 
If I can help somebody as I pass along,
If I can cheer somebody with a word or a song,
If I can show somebody he is travelling wrong,
Then my living shall not be in vain!
   Know that among the 500 rabbis and other family members and guests gathered for that service, there was likely not a dry eye in the house.    
    That song's lyrics describe some of the most crucial building blocks of community because they direct us to act with kindness, with compassion, and with enough of a sense of fellowship to reach out to support others along our shared life's path.     
    What we do in our lives should not be about power, or control, or being more important and precious than anyone else. 
    We can be like the Israelites who brought their best to build a holy space where they would meet God.  
    And we, in our day, can do the same with generous hands and open minds and hearts.   
    May the space we create allow all people to enter, remembering that God's house can and should always be a house of prayer for all peoples.   May we make it so.